


A Badass Little Lady

by Tomato_Trash_Art



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Kidnapping, Blood and Violence, Bodyguard Romance, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gun Violence, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Implied/Referenced Torture, John Wick 2 spoilers, Kidnapping, Medical Procedures, Minor Character Death, Plot, Post-John Wick: Chapter 2 (2017), Pre-John Wick: Chapter 3 (2019), Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Torture, there's only one bed, this got dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2019-10-27 23:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 61,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17776433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomato_Trash_Art/pseuds/Tomato_Trash_Art
Summary: A young woman without a diploma in medicine that works in a Café shop meets a bloodied man on the run that she decides to bring home.What could go wrong?Apparently, a lot.Mature because I am paranoid, there is cursing and bloody things. Also possible sexy times in later chapters.





	1. You bumped into my life

The sun was setting over the horizon as she closed the Café's door behind her. Yet again she had been asked for the last shift despite begging for her boss to let her have one free Friday, the woman locked the door and sighed. Another boring, boring day, in a boring, boring life. To think she could have been a doctor if she hadn't fucked up the date of the exam. Then the administration and the loss of her file, then everything went downhill from there. At least she didn't have to deal with small healthcare problems that could cost her arm.

She looked at the street, almost empty by now, everyone already home for supper.

 

And that's when someone bumped into her, roughly, if you could call it bumping at all... At least strongly enough that she lost any semblance of balance and fell down with the body that crashed into her.

"Fuck!" She exclaimed as her back hit the concrete, followed by a "Oof-" as her wind was knocked out from the large body over her.

 

Her first reflex was to sit up, but with the supplemental weight, the job wasn't easy, so she opted for holding her purse close and glaring at the stranger until they got off. It didn't take long for the man, because it was a man, to put his hands on the ground and try to push himself off. That's when she noticed something off about him. He seemed healthy enough in shape, but extremely weak, and his expensive-looking suit wasn't the sign of someone that couldn't afford healthcare.

"Sorry." He said, in a very deep voice that only had a touch of regret to it. A weak voice too.

He managed to roll off, but then stopped moving, laying on the sidewalk.

 

She saw red. Not as being angry, but red as in a lot of blood. An uncomfortable and deadly amount of blood. As a reflex, she looked at his chest, moving, breathing. Good. It was hard to know if the man was stabbed or shot with the sheer amount of blood soaking his originality white shirt.

"Mister?" She called, standing to move to his sides. "Oh my gods what happened to you?! We need to call an ambulance-"

A strong hand shot up and grabbed her wrist before she could reach her purse.

"No... no hospital..."

"Mister, you are bleeding out on the street, you need medical help!"

"No..."

With a groan, she gave him a pat down around his wounds to check the damages, ignoring his groans of pain. One, no, two stab wounds, four bullet wounds, and something like handprints around his neck. Choked. 

"Gosh, who did that to you?"

She heard cars that sounded way over the speed limit in the distance, probably some young idiot who would crash if the police didn't stop them first. But the bloodied man in front of her sat up at the sound, hand pressing on his wounds, and tried to get up. The movement was so fast and incredibly unlikely that he had time to raise himself to his feet before she could get to him to offer support. He tried to refuse it, but as soon as he took a step, almost all of his weight crushed her shoulder.

 

"Hey, what the fuck? You should be lying down!" 

"No time."

"Seriously." She pressed, horrified at the blood dripping to the sidewalk. "I am very worried for you right now."

He tried to move again and she huffed.

"Alright, it's just because I have no survival instinct and you are way too weak to attack me, but I'm getting you in my car, getting you to my apartment and stitching that up."

He let out a very weak chuckle when she mentioned him being too weak to fight, but followed her steps as she got closer to her car. She felt lucky about parking it so close to the shop when she opened the passenger door and took his weight off her shoulder. She quickly walked around to get in, trying really hard to ignore the bright red stain on her trench coat, and sat behind the wheel.

 

"You have to buckle your seatbelt." She pointed out, waiting for a moment before bending over him to do it herself. "Here, move your arm- yes. Ok. Good. Let's go. Can you talk? I need to know you're still conscious." 

"I'm conscious." He weakly answered as she sped down the road, not noticing the expensive cars that stopped in front of the shop, or the men that came out of them as soon as she turned a corner.

 

What the fuck was this day about?

 

If only she knew

 

~***~

 

She arrived home and managed to get him inside her apartment on the second floor by using her balcony stairs, less visible and frequented. She dropped him on a chair before prepping her bed for an unhealthy amount of blood, then moved him and laid him down. 

"I'm going to get my kit, don't move and stay conscious!"

 

Her boot clacked on the floor as she rushed to the bathroom to get her first aid and personal tools, dropping them unceremoniously on the side of the bed.

"I'm sorry, your shirt has to go." She said, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it off the gaping skin. "Oh boy this is ugly. Please tell me there is no bullet in you..." Not loosing a second, she cleaned the stab wounds. That seemed to bleed much more than the rest.

"Two." He answered, a shaking hand pointing out two of the wounds. "Deep." He added to the second.

"I hate this and I hate you." She said, efficiency cleaning, stitching and dressing each and every wound, cringing as he screamed muffled on his tie you helped him put in his mouth for that purpose alone. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." She repeated like a mantra the whole time.

 

When she was done, she pushed his ruined clothes off his back and checked for more injuries. She only found scars. Numerous and of various sizes. Bullets, but also knifes and... she didn't want to think about the rest. On his backs were tattoos, but she only gave them a glance, more worried about his state of blood loss.

"You're still with me?"

He nodded.

"Alright, you lost a lot of blood, and I really don't want to say this, but please let me call the-"

"No hospital."

"You're doing everything but making me comfortable, here!" She exploded, hands starting to shake when realization finally came to her. "I found you, bloodied and shot and stabbed in front of my shop, and then you refuse hospitalization, make me stitch you up myself and- and- Oh my god I don't even know what's your name and why the fuck I brought you here and you need a blood transfusion but-"

 

He hushed her, face pale, sweat still running down his face. "My name's John. Thank you for helping me."

"What if you're an awful person?!" She kept going. "What if you try to kill me in my sleep or- or try to rape me! I just brought a mob into my apartment... oh my Gods I'm gonna get killed-"

"Hey... hey." He said, still speaking quietly over lost blood. "I won't hurt you, I promise... I'm too weak anyway..."

"I-"

"You saved my life... I owe you."

Her voice was just a whimper when she answered. "Please don't owe me..."

He let out a small chuckle that visibly pulled his stitches and closed his eyes. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it..."

 

And here she stood over the stranger she just saved, well, if he didn't die of blood loss in the next hours. She stared as his wounds, counting the number of scars spread on his abdomen. What kind of life did he even live? Target at a shooting range?

She shook herself and turned around, grabbing her phone charger before closing her door. In a few minutes, the couch was arranged so she could sleep comfortably enough.

After a short time, she turned to the kitchen, hiding all the knifes she could, then hesitating on the forks... if he wanted to kill her, he could probably do it with his hands anyway... the knifes were placed back, but she still pushed a magazine in front of them, just to be sure.

 

She brought her pocket knife and shoved it in her pyjamas pockets, just to be sure. Her hand was still bloody and she went to the bathroom, cleaning them while making a face. Today was not her day.

Her knowledge of self-defence was good, that's what a few years of it did to people anyway, but no martial art could go against a gun and she wasn't sure the things on his belt were... non-lethal...

 

Gosh, he was probably really uncomfortable. Especially on his wounds.

 

She made her way to her room on her tiptoes and cracked open the door. He was still passed-out. Good. Or bad, she didn't really know without any hospital gear around.

She walked to the bed and gently started pulling... yeah... those were guns... off him and on the bedside table. There was one, awkwardly placed behind his back, and she had to almost lie down on him to pull it free. 

Her knowledge of guns being minimal, she didn't dare touch anything other than the handle, in fear of it taking off.

 

Once that was over, she glanced at his bandages, not bleeding out anymore, and pulled a sheet over him, replacing the pillow under his head.

 

As she closed the door, she missed the small amused smile that appeared on the man's face.

 

~***~

 

She woke up at 7, as she always did during her days without any alarms, the consequences of working at a café-bakery full-time.

 

She looked at the TV, puzzled as what kind of movie she fell asleep to. From her memories, probably a very bad gory movie. She stood up and went to boil some water, getting out her favourite cup and some mint tea.

She had only started drinking and putting bread slices in the toaster that someone knocked at her balcony door. Odd.

Checking herself in the mirror by the door to be sure a night on the couch didn't transpire too much, she opened the door, chain rattling.

 

"Yeah?"

A few men stared back at her, strangers, and blinked at each other. Their arms were heavily tattooed and all of them wore heavy leather jackets.

"We're searching for someone." One bravely started.

"Don't we all?" She answered still sleepily.

Why the hell would people freaking come that early as a gang.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" _Please don't rob me, I'm poor._ She thought sadly.

 

One pointed to the floor in front of her door, red. Blood. Her eyes grew wide in shock.

"What kind of shitty prank is this?!" She exclaimed, horrified. "It's not funny, it's not Halloween yet!"

 

They looked at each other, confused of her reaction. 

The same that talked before took a step closer to the door. "M'am-"

"Come on, Miss at least. I'm not _that_ old."

"Miss. These bloody prints stop at your door and there is some on your doorknob."

She paled. "Was that you lot? This is really creepy."

 

Her mind suddenly flew to her dream about the bloodied man. Slowly, she turned to face her hanged coat. Bloodstains all over it.

 

"Miss, we assure you it wasn't us, but the man that made these marks is dangerous, we're here to take care of him"

"You won't scare me! Clean this up, it's awful!" She half-screamed before slamming the door and bolting it, sliding her back to it until her ass hit the floor. She hadn't shaken that much since her first surgery.

She crawled to her coat and smelled it, letting out a muffled gasp as the smell of iron hit her nose.

 _Not_ a prank.

 _Not_ a dream.

 

She stood up on shaky legs and went to the room, opening the door slowly to discover the bloody man learning against the bed post, replacing a gun on the bedside table.

"Um... you're not a nightmare..." she lamely asked.

"No." He simply answered, looking back at her. "Thank you for not letting them in, whoever they were."

"You ruined my coat."

 

A pause.

 

"Sorry. Thank you for stitching me up."

"I don't want to see what my car looks like."

"If I had time I would have helped for the cleanup..."

"Oh my god I am hiding a criminal."

 

Her legs gave out under her and the last thing she saw before loosing consciousness was the man trying to rise to catch her.

 

~***~

 

"Hey."

 

Something was shaking her shoulder gently.

She groaned as she came out of the horrible nightmare she had. Finally-

 

Her eyes opened and here he was, John, the one that started all this mess. She sat up and noticed how his free arm was pressing tight over his bandages. Nothing seemed to bleed profusely.

"What the fuck-"

"You fell. You feel ok?"

"Ok? Ok?! I am housing whatever kind of criminal, there is blood everywhere in my house, what the fuck?!"

He paused, brows furrowed in concentration. "I can help you with that."

"Yeah, sure, do that with your fucking seven stitches!"

"Give me your phone."

"No fucking way!"

 

She tried to stand up but felt suddenly unstable.

"Hey, don't move too fast, you hit your head pretty hard. I need your phone to call people to clean this. They're professional."

"I don't want to bring any cleaning people to show them a bloody flat! I'll end up in JAIL!"

 

With a huff, he snatched her phone and dialled a number, handing it back to her. "Tell the guy that you're in need of a dinner reservation for one and that your date stood you up."

"Wha-"

"Do it."

"I don't want dinner I-"

A voice bloomed from the phone. "Yes?"

 

"Um-" Encouraged by John, if this was even his real name, she took a deep breath. "Hi... I need a dinner reservation for one... um... i got stood up?"

"Of course," answered the voice. "Name and address?"

 

She looked at John in panic and he just raised his eyebrows. So she did as he asked, too scared to say something wrong and get killed for it.

As soon as the other side hung up, she let out a shaky breath. "Wha- What now?"

He stood up with difficulty. "I go into a closet and you give-" he fished three gold coins from his discarded coat pocket and shoved them into her palms. "Them these. And don't forget to thank them."

"Them?! Wha- Are those the cleaning crew you talked about? Why didn't you take the phone?"

He smiled... Well, it was more of a twitch of his mouth. "People listen to phone conversations to this number. I cannot be on the radar."

"That's reassuring-"

"Knock four times when they're gone."

"I-"

 

He sat in the closet and closed the door behind him with a clean hand. She looked around at the bloodied sheets, floors, door handles, a handprint on the window...

 

How would she even-

 

Another knock from the balcony. The weirdoes again, she supposed. 

At the door was an older man with a pair of immense men flanking him. He tipped his hat with a smile and she noticed that the front of her door was spotless once again. "Milady. May we come in?"

 

She nodded a little out of it, closing the door to move away the chain, and opened it again as the three men came in, spotting the bloodstains and getting to work.

"Milady, it's the first time I get the pleasure of meeting, and hearing about you. Might I ask when you started the job?"

"Recently" She answered, shaking slightly.

"I see no bullet holes. You work with knifes?"

She swallowed the led ball stuck in her throat. "I'm a doctor." 

He smiled. "That is nice. But as you said 'recently', I can't help but wonder if you know how to afford these services."

She fished the coins from her pocket, grabbing the knife instead, handle caked with dry blood. "Crap." She put it back on the counter and got the gold pieces instead and put them in the man's hand. "H-Here... sorry I'm... new to this." 

"But of course. Why don't we sit?"

 

She nodded, and when she went to grab her knife, she noticed it was clean once again. She put it inside her clean pocket and followed the man to her couch.

"You're quite a surprise." Said the old man, extending his hand. "I'm Charlie."

She greeted him, surprised when he kissed the back of her hand. "A surprise?"

"Yes. You see, I rarely get new clients. Usually they have... a reputation."

"A... friend told me about you." That was half a lie... or a whole truth? John hadn't tried to kill her yet, but she was useful as long as took care of him. Maybe not friend. Roommate was a better therm.

"A friend, you say." She could hear the smile in his voice and swallowed heavily.

 

Luckily, they cleaned the house, even passing broom and mop on the floor before Charlie kissed her hand again and left. When she went back to the bedroom, careful to lock the door again, she was surprised to find a pile of plastic-looking sheets with a note.

 

" _To cover your next sheets when someone comes for your services._

 _\- Charlie_ "

 

She blinked at the note and, noticing the hour on her bedside clock, rushed to the closet, stopping in-extremis from opening it, and knocked 4 times.

"Um... they're gone; you can come out..."

 

She stepped back and put the note on her dresser as she put one of the sheet over the bed, please to see it was still comfortable and acted like actual tissue. It was weird, but who was she to complain about free stuff. 

The door of the closet opened and the man limped out before stopping in front of the bed. "Where did you get those?"

"The sheets? That man, Charlie, gave them to me... I didn't try them yet, but they look nice."

"They are." He stated before sitting on the edge of the bed.

She eyed his bandaged torso and sighed. "Alright, time to check these out. Do they hurt?" 

"Less than yesterday." He answered, clenching his jaw as the bandages were peeled away, catching on the dried blood.

 

Soon, she was cleaning them up and checking the stitches. Luckily, none of them looked infected, and only one started to bleed immediately after the past protection was gone, stitches visibly pulled.

"I'll have to redo at least one of them." She said, carefully wiping blood away with her warm wet towel. 

"Do you have anything for the pain?"

"I got painkillers, yes. I'll-" 

"Alcohol. I meant alcohol."

She paused, looking at him with a disappointed look. "Alcohol? Really? This isn't a TV show, you need medicine."

"I'll do great with something else."

 

She huffed and stood up, glaring at him for a few seconds before turning on her heels and walking to her medical kit. She pulled out some painkillers and grabbed a bottle of scotch that she received at Christmas but never opened. She hesitated before grabbing two glasses.

"Here. That's all I have that works with your standards."

"That'll do."

She pulled a chair in front of him and sat, pouring two glasses and handing him one before getting to work.

 

This time, he barely even flinched, lightly grunting when her hand slipped, but sipping the scotch mechanically. When she finished dressing the wounds, she emptied her glass in one swig and filled it up again as well as his.

"Alright. You're all done and I'm apparently housing a criminal with a horribly professional body-cleaning crew's number memorized..." 

 

She slammed her second glass back and refilled it as the burn traveled down her throat.

"Careful with that. It's strong."

"You're strong."

 

Down went the third glass.

 

"I think you had enough."

"You don't know me. I could drown the whole bottle before-"

 

 

She opened her eyes when her doorbell rang, her stomach loudly begging for food, ear pressed against something way too firm and warm to be a pillow.

 

Oh dear...

 

 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, all of you that decided to read this.  
> English is not my first language, but I do know my writing is a little wonky at time, trying to use third person pronouns.
> 
> I got 5 Chapters ready so far, but I would like to know what you guys think since I'm still awkward with Reader-insert and don't know if posting the rest is worth it.


	2. And then there was a hotel

Slowly, she sat up, cursing the doorbell for making her whole brain hurt. Her eyes did not move down for she knew what... well... who was there.

 

Grabbing a vest, she went to the door and opened it, surprised at the well-dressed man standing in front of it.

"Good evening miss. My name is Charon and I work at the Continental Hotel here in New York. My manager just heard about you joining the business, but he cannot find the way you could have gotten your hands on our currency."

"Ummmm." She looked back towards the bedroom. "I-" 

"You have a client, I presume?" 

"Yes." Was that too fast? Too loud. "I mean... yes." Wow. Real smooth.

"Then I shall not steal anymore of your time." He put a hand in his pocket that came out with a lovely envelope, wax sealed. It looked like it held something heavier than paper. "This is from the Continental Hotel manager. If you'd agree, he would love to meet you. When you're free. Of course."

"I- I'm not sure I-"

"Just come by at anytime you wish, miss. We'd understand if your work took much of your time. Just pass if you're ever free."

 

With a smile, he turned around and walked down the stairs, leaving her clutching the envelope to her chest.

 

"What the hell?"

 

She closed the door again and almost tripped on her way to the bedroom where she found her patient sleeping. A look at the clock told her that is was well past lunchtime so she moved to the kitchen to cook something and occupy her mind, popping an Advil to calm the drumming in her head. 

When she was done, she ate her part and brought the other with a glass of water to the bedroom where she found John leaning against the headboard. He looked up at her arrival and raised an eyebrow at the food tray.

 

"Breakfast... I know it's well pass One, but let's say late brunch... I didn't know what you liked so I got some pancakes and waffles and crêpes... I cook when I'm panicking so I did a lot..."

"That's really kind of you." He paused as he took the tray. Then put it down and looked at her. "How's your hangover?"

Sudden memories of how she woke up made blood rush to her face before she got the courage to whisper the terrifying question. "Did we..."

"You passed out."

Her eyes grew wide. "Oh my god... oh my god you-"

He made a face. " _Nothing_ happened. Who do you think I am?"

Another whisper. "I have no idea..."

 

He took a deep breath and broke a piece of waffle to munch on it. "You passed out clinging to me for dear life after accusing me of a lot of things... Apparently, I was the one that pushed you off the swing when you were five and I also killed Princess Diana." He looked down at the food before taking the whole waffle and biting into it. "You also said it was unfair that the first person sleeping in your bed that wasn't you had to be so hot and yet such, and I quote, 'a very very handsome meanie'."

At that point, she was certain eggs could cook on her face.

"There was also that part about the fact that I cost too much and you couldn't pay for a second cuddling appointment, and to be honest... After that point you became impossible to understand."

"Oh god... it's a nightmare."

"No." She could bet he smiled between two bites. "It's scotch."

 

She was out the door before he could finish that damn waffle.

Walking into the kitchen, the envelope caught her eye, still sitting on the counter. She thought about opening it right here, but sadly, if anything was a booby trap, there was only one person who could know and was in her proximity. She made her way back with slumped shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Some guy came to give me this... is that a good sign?"

He looked up, a flash of recognition in his eyes, before he smiled. It looked alien on him for some reason. But not bad. Just... new. "It's safe. You should read it."

 

Ok. Good omen for as much as it could be...

She opened it, surprised about how... expensive it looked. Her name was written on the back as well as her address. She unfolded the fancy paper which was decorated with golden accents and borders. It was a rich red calligraphy that greeted her.

 

" _Miss,_

_My name is Winston, owner of the Continental Hotel here in New York City._

_Charlie is a friend of mine, and could not help himself from talking about you. He left out a lot of details, I am sure. He does know his business well, but I became curious._

_Rare are the new recruits, and I would be honoured to meet you in person and offer you a job if you would. I have so many questions as we live in dark times._

 

_\- Winston, manager of the Continental, NYC_

 

_P.S._

_I left you a gift as I am sure it might come handy. Compliments of the house._ "

 

She closed the letter before rummaging into the envelope that felt even heavier than when she took it from the mysterious man at her door. Out came five golden coins, so shiny they had to be new.

 

"Who was it from?" From his tone, he already knew, but that didn't stop her from answering.

"A certain Winston... He wants me to come meet him at his hotel... Am I supposed to feel uneasy about it?"

"It's a safe place, but the way there isn't." He lost focus, deep in his thoughts. "You have a new face. Unknown. You would be fine. I won't be able to follow you as long as I'm like this."

"My flat isn't a place for you to hide! I need to get my bed and life back on Monday! You can't just squat here-"

"I'll sleep on the couch."

"Not in that shape, you're not!"

"I know I'm intruding." He started as she crossed her arms in annoyance. "But, to be honest, you are the first person in days that showed me something else than the need to end my life. I don't think I deserve your kindness, but if you let me fully heal before I get out that door, I will never come back and I swear no harm will come to you."

"Not reassuring."

"If you want me out now, I will leave."

 

She knew deep down into her bones that he was saying the truth. That she would gain back her life if she only said the word. That she would not have to go to the hotel or answer to any weird people.

But she could not let him go either. He was wounded and no sane person would leave their bed if they were in the same state as him. She felt bad for him, Stockholm syndrome or whatever it could be called. So far, he hadn't hurt her, was polite, and truly sounded like he would hold his promise. He wasn't a good man. But he wasn't bad either... at least towards her.

 

"Fine." She finally said. "You stay. But as soon as you're able to, I want you to pull your weight. Dishes, meals, cleaning, watering the plants, whatever. But I need you to do it."

He blinked, then smiled and held out a hand that she shook. "It's a deal."

 

~***~

 

The next day, a bright and sunny Sunday, she went to the Continental Hotel. It wasn't very far, but still a good half hour from her flat by car. She needed to remember to thank Charie and his men next time for cleaning her car.

 

Next time. Oh dear...

 

She adjusted her coat, ignoring her morning conversation with her protégé where he laughed at her after she asked him for a possible dress code.

She went with her little black dress. Suck it, fashion. And a red coat that looked nice but she rarely wore. She looked clean at least.

After passing the doors, she was surprised to see Charon himself behind the front desk. People sitting at the entrance gave her glances but nothing major. Nothing to calm her nerves either.

He greeted her politely by her name before giving her a smile. "Good morning. The manager is waiting for you in the lounge." Seeing her confusion, he continued. "Go down the corridor and down the stairs. He likes the table next to the window."

 

She nodded and started walking, feeling out of place even though it looked like any normal fancy hotel. The corridor opened as she found herself on top of a short flight of stairs overlooking the lounge. She scanned the tables by the windows, only one occupied by a single person. She cursed herself. Not everyone looked like who they really were. Probably even less in that underworld. The manager could be 14 for all she knew.

Her leather boots clicked on the wooden floor peeking from the edges of a gorgeous rug before she stopped next to the table where was eating the lonely older man. He turned and raised an eyebrow.

 

"Can I help you, miss?"

She shook herself and nodded. "Um, so sorry to bother you, I was told the manager was here... I might have gotten it wrong, sorry."

He smiled. "I am indeed the manager, please, sit." He gestured to the chair in front of him and she sat down politely. "Well. Whom do I have the honour to meet?" 

She presented herself in a small voice. "You sent me a letter to invite me and I did not really know if I would show up at a good time."

He chuckled. "Quite early I must say. But good." He took a bite of his delicious-looking breakfast and swallowed before going on. "I do not know what kind of doctor hours you have, but I was wondering if you would like a job here."

She blinked. "What?"

 

"A job. For you see, the Continental pride itself on its doctor services, but it is hard to offer them 24/7 with the current number we have. You could be a great help here." 

"To be honest..." she started, thinking back about her Café job, the bloodied sheets and the protective covers at her apartment. "I prefer to work from home... and my current salary doesn't allow me to afford living over... doctor work..."

"Maybe you charge too cheap?"

She looked down. "I have only one client."

He laughed, a warm belly laugh, and patted her hand that was on the table. "Where do you treat, miss?"

"At home." As a reflex, she even told him the name of her building before stopping herself. Not that he didn't know already with Charon knocking at her door. "I barely can afford my material..."

"Well, if you agree, I will start sending you clients as soon as tomorrow. They'll pay better, I'm sure. You would be doing us a great service if you, of course, agreed to still work with us, even from a distance. I'll ask someone to bring you to our medical shop, these coins I gave you will buy you a better gear." 

"That's-" She thought for a moment and her shoulder slumped. "I don't have my diploma. Doctor diploma... I missed the exam."

"Missed?"

"Yes... I showed up at the wrong date and was never able to take it again. I'm not a certified doctor."

 

Winston looked deep in thought. His fingers were drumming on the table before he leaned towards her again. "Let's make a deal. I let you treat the next patient that comes in, and if you're good enough, we'll start working. If not, you'll get paid and go on your merry way. Would that be alright with you?"

She blinked. "Sure... but I'll have to get home for lunch, my-"

"You patient, yes."

He pulled a phone from his pocket and dialled a number. "Charon. Please call me the next time we need to send a doctor. We need to test the new miss' talent." He finished the call and went back to his food. "You'll find all medical supplies you need next to the sommelier. You can ask Charon for directions."

She stood up and bowed awkwardly. "Thank you..."

 

Her hand fished for her phone and dialled her home number. Two rings and then silence, just like he said he would do. "Um, it's me, I've been asked to stay for a bit to test my skills or something. They said they could offer me a job where I still work from home and that would cover my rent better... also I can buy all the supplies I need so I might get home in one or two hours. You still good with that sore throat?" No answer, it meant yes. "Alright I'll see you soon." She counted 2 seconds and hung up, feeling pretty good about remembering that code.

 

Her feet lead her to the front desk where she greeted Charon again and asked him for directions. It's an old woman that greeted her at the... cleaning room, bringing her behind a service door to a well-furnished pharmacy and medical gear. It took her about 50 minutes and three of her five coins to find and buy all she needed, asking for a bag for her bigger supplies. Seconds before she left, the woman's desk phone rang and she gave a room number to go to. 

 

First client. 

Let's do this.

 

It was a woman in terrible shape, but like John, she didn't seem to mind it that much. She was sipping some cognac as a painkiller and raised an eyebrow at the new arrival. Obviously surprised with the new face and how alien she looked in her black dress and leather boots.

"You're new?"

"I'm good, if that's your question." She answered, somehow glad of the unplanned practice of doctor/patient bickering with the man that bled on her bed.

The woman smirked. "Cool."

The new doctor pulled a chair in front of her patient, opening her bag and fishing for her gear, coat on the back of her chair. She pulled on a white medical one from her bag instead and folded the sleeves. "What am I looking at?" 

After an extremely precise explanation that made no sense to her, she raised her hand to stop. "I'm good, but I still know scalpels better than guns. Speak doctor now."

 

And surprisingly enough, the woman did. Pointing out the wounds and what bullet and gun did the damages, hissing as they were pulled from her skin. She told her the kind of pain she was having and what felt infected, and in less than an hour, every single would was disinfected, stitched and dressed. Pills were in the woman's hands for pain and restful sleep.

 

Three gold coins were pressed to her hand.

"For the fast work." The assassin smiled, sipping her drink with a smile. "I must say you're efficient. I barely felt a thing. I hope I'll fall on you again next time I'm in that kind of shape."

"Oh. I don't work here." 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"The manager wanted to check my skills. I'm pretty sure he'll ask for your comments on my work." She started folding her supplies, throwing the bloodied tools in a bag and trash in the other. "I'm going to throw that out. Do you have any question before I leave?" 

The woman in front of her blinked, then laughed. "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do."

"I'm listening?"

"Where do you work and how do I ask for you?"

She blushed. "Um... you'll have to ask the manager, but for the code.... you'll have to knock to the rhythm of..." Gosh! Why was it so hard to think when it was needed. "Spider-man. One slow, two fast, pause, and repeat. Once."

The assassin blinked slowly.

"It's an inside joke." She blurbed out before turning her back and rushing out the door. Face flaming with embarrassment.

 

She took the elevator down and went to Charon. And he greeted her as always.

"Did you finish your work, miss?"

"Yeah..."

"Are you still interested in the job?"

"Um... as a matter of fact... I really find the gold coins interesting, but I'm not sure they are acceptable for paying my rent..." 

"How many do you have on you at the moment?"

She fished into her pocket and stacked the two left from the envelope with the three new ones. Five. Just like when she came through these doors.

"I heard you bought supplies?"

"Yes, three coins worth." 

"Well, with two of these, I can make some change for you. Would you agree?"

"Yes! That would be nice, whatever it's worth I'll take it."

 

Taking two coins that he put under his counter, he stacked six bills and slid them gracefully to her. 120$ wasn't all that bad for the hour she did. Lucky the coins were there for the tools and pills. She pocketed the bills with a nod and soon a sheet of what looked like official papers was in front of her with an expensive-looking pen.

"If you would like to put your address, number, or anything that could help any possible client to contact you in the best way possible for you."

Nodding, she wrote her address, house phone with a note to ask for her specifically and if it hung up, it would mean she was away, the way to her balcony door, and her Spider-man knock. She added that she preferred cash, but agreed to take some part of the payments in gold coins. 

Once completed, she looked down at the sheet and took a shaky breath.

 

This was crazy. Way too crazy. She was an employee of a small Café, a wannabe doctor. Not a... professional assassin doctor. She couldn't do this...

 

She looked in her hand. The bills were not 20s. They were 50s. The two coins were worth around 300$. She got over 300$ for an hour work.

 

She pushed the sheet to him again, nodding politely.

"Any question, miss?"

"More like a comment... I live half an hour from here, so if you need to call, it'll be better to do it in around forty or fifty. I got a last errand to run."

"Of course. It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Um.. you too. Thank you."

 

She took her leave, certain that everyone's eyes were on her as she passed the door and went to her car, driving toward the sandwich shop close to her apartment. It was almost lunchtime, and she didn't trust her new roommate to cook in that shape of his. Also, he needed non-bloody clothes, just had to pass to the trift shop on the way.

 

She let out a nervous chuckle as she turned on the radio and Queen's _Under Pressure_ filled the car.

 

Ah, the irony.

 

~***~

 

When she arrived home, she took the inside entrance. It needed two keys, but her arms were full and the wind was picking up outside. Arrived at her door, she unlocked it with her key and her face hit the wooden surface when the chain stopped its movements.

"Ow!"

One of her bag fell and she let out a steam of curses.

"Come on! Fuck!" 

 

She did not remember locking that front door before leaving. Did... did John lock the door so she wouldn't be able to come back in? The blood left her face as she imagined the worst possible outcome.

Then her door closed in her face, the chain rattled and it opened again, John scanning the entry suspiciously.

She gaped at him in outrage as he took the bags in her hands and went back inside, bringing them to her kitchen counter. Quickly, she grabbed the things that escaped her grip and spilled on the floor - luckily, no eggs or glass bottles were in that bag - and went in, closing and locking the door behind her.

 

"What the hell was that?" She let out, rubbing the side of her face that had hit the door. "I have the keys!" 

"Sorry." He said, leaving her wondering if it was a real apology or not. He was so hard to read. "How did it go?"

With a pout, she put the last bag down and hang her coat. Her boots came out next and she started putting the food at its righteous place. "Well enough I guess? I'm pretty sure I'm gonna have to give my 2 weeks notice on monday."

He frowned. "You're going to go work there?"

"Nah." She sighed. "From home."

"But I'm here."

"It's ok. Apparently they're all the same as you. Underworld kind."

"That's the problem."

This time, she turned to him, closing the fridge. His eyes were colder somehow. "I'm sorry, is there a problem? I thought it would be fine since, you know, they're not cops..."

"Cops are not trying to kill me."

 

Deep breath. Deep breath. "Are you telling me that the whole 'assassin world' wants your head?"

"No. They want the fourteen millions that come with it."

She blinked for a few seconds, almost feeling the loading bar in her brain. "Fourteen... millions... on your head..."

"You want them?" He asked. It sounded like a challenge. If it was, it wasn't a fair one.

"No." She was telling the truth. Sure it could pay her debts, a small house, maybe a dog or two, the possibility to try again to be a doctor with a diploma... but at the cost of a life? Never. "I am more worried about what you could have done to have... that much money on your head..."

He looked at her for a moment. Probably wondering if telling her was worth it. "I killed someone important. I'm lucky I didn't get killed on sight. Perks of being friend with Winston I guess."

"He's your friend?"

"He supports my bullshit."

She nodded. "Who was that person?"

"Someone bad that didn't listen to my warnings and died for it."

 

It shouldn't have surprised her. It still did. How many people would he kill once he was on his feet again? How many did he kill before that? "Do you..." she tried and fail to swallow the ball that had formed in her throat. "Will you kill me?"

"No. I have a code. I only kill the guilty." 

"How do you know they are?"

He paused. "They often try to kill me first."

"Oh..."

She was at a loss of word. The more she learned, the more the business looked lucrative, the more she found out she was in danger. "What if someone finds out and come here to kill you? What- Oh gods... What if they kill me?"

 

"No one will kill or hurt you." He said. Voice entirely too serious.

 

"How do you know that?"

 

" _Because I'll kill them first._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the reviews and kudos, even smalls, it makes me see that people are interested in my work, even if just a bit.
> 
> I will post one chapter per week (maybe two if I write really fast) because I know that I prefer nicely paced updates to year-long hiatuses
> 
> Please do leave me comments or at least kudos to let me know it's a story people want to read! It makes me write more!


	3. Let's just go with it

She didn't sleep that night. The couch was comfortable enough, but his words were still ringing in her head...

_'Because I'll kill them first.'_  

She didn't doubt him for a second, but she feared for her life still. She had called the hotel to tell them about her 2 weeks notice at her other job and how she could only take clients in the evening and if they were in a good enough shape to be able to go back to the hotel after receiving their treatment. Charon had told her that they would offer a taxi service and that she must have been an incredible doctor for getting high praise from Tina, the assassin she had patched up before. Apparently, she usually left the doctor a coin out of politeness. She had gotten three after all.

From what she learned, she only had one possible official client, Tina, but she wasn't on a job so she wasn't supposed to come anytime soon.

Her eyes moved to the clock. 3:45am. She was supposed to wake up in just over an hour to get ready for her shift, so she got up and went to take a shower.

After changing into her work uniform, her next step was preparing breakfast. Since she still had time, she started some french toast with cinnamon and fresh fruits. She also prepared a chicken salad for her patient's lunch, putting it in a Tupperware and in the fridge with a small note. Her own breakfast was eaten on the side of the counter, taking her time. At 5:30, she grabbed her bag, wrote another note about the breakfast, lunch and work number if needed, and she left with a post-it on the chain saying "if you put that one back in, I will kill you."

 

The drive to her work was peaceful. As if nothing had ever happened to her during that weekend.

And then she stopped the car, parked a block away from the Café, and arrived nose-to-nose with a police squad.

As she tried to pass though to get to the door, a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Miss, are you the owner of this shop?"

"Um... no... I'm an employee." 

"Were you there on Friday?"

She looked around, uneasy. She had indeed found John on Friday, right where the policeman was standing actually... "Yes... I closed the shop. Is there a problem?"

 

The policeman pointed at his feet and she noticed the dried blood traces still present from three days prior.

She let herself gasp and take enough steps back to leave the radius, pressing her bag to her chest. "What the hell is that?! Is that shit?"

"That is blood ma'am."

She looked at him, using the terror of being found out as a perfect cover. "Blood?! How is that better?! What happened? Why is there blood in front of the shop?"

"We received calls about a dangerous and wounded individual that ran here around your closing hours on Friday. Did you see anything?"

"I-I closed the shop and went home. I- I didn't- Was it a murderer?!"

The officer sighed, obviously not enjoying talking with her. Good. "He's a dangerous individual, Ma'am." 

"How- how will I get clients if there is b-blood in front of the Café?"

"The cleanup crew passes this evening. We have to finish analyzing everything first. You should probably close for the day."

 

She nodded and started rummaging into her bag to find paper and pen, scribbling a note. She unlocked the door to stick it to the window, making sure it would stay there all day. She then locked the door, turned around, nodding at the policeman, and went back to her car, heart beating a thousand miles an hour.

She arrived home with her hands trembling, dropping the key twice before finally managing to unlock the door. 6 O'clock. She should go back to sleep. She took off her boots and coat as quietly as possible, same went for her bag, placed next to the door. Checking on her patient before taking a nap seemed important, expecially since he was the one that had started all of that nonsense after all.

She tiptoed to the bedroom door, quietly opening it and looking in, eyes not used to the dark of the room with the drawn curtains. She could see a bit of movement.

And then a gun was on her head.

 

She froze.

~***~

John had woken up when he heard her cooking. He checked the time and let out a small groan. Who the hell woke up at 4:25am to cook? He decided to close his eyes again, but sleep had left him already, and a delicious smell of cinnamon was tickling his nose. He stood up after a few minutes, glad he was gaining strength, and walked to the clothing pile she bought him the day before. It took him longer than planned to get into the long sleeved shirt, but the dark blue was nice and it was comfortable on his bandages. When he finally managed to put on his pants and socks, he heard the front door close and lock.

He made his way to the door and peeked to see if there was any surprise visitor. He was alone again. Seemed like her job was extremely early, at least on Mondays. He walked to the kitchen, surprised to find a note and covered plate on the counter.

 

_"This is your breakfast, lunch is in the fridge with a yellow post-it on it. If it's cold, you can pass it in the microwave or use the pan. I did not clean if for that purpose._

_Once you're done, can you do the dishes? If you're feeling well enough?_

_Thank you."_

 

Her name was signed in a bit of a rush, but he recognized it. He wondered if he would be able to access his account to pay her for her services anytime soon. On the chain at the door was another message, warning him not to lock it today, ending with the drawing of a frowning face.  John sat down at the counter, removing the upside-down plate that kept his meal warm, and was delighted to find it in no need to go back into the pan. The cinnamon smell did wonders to his mood and he ate it like a starving man.  Next was the dishes which he did with a smile. He was used to a dishwasher, but it felt good to do it himself. Felt like he was repaying that odd girl in a way.  When he was done, he moved back to his- her room, and went to check on his guns. One was surprisingly untouched by blood, but he took them all apart one by one for cleaning anyway.

He was halfway done with the second when he heard the door unlock. It took too long for it to be her. A bulgar maybe. Or someone more dangerous. He paused his activity to place a silencer on his clean gun. The front door opened as the thief seemed to try really hard to sneak through the house. The footsteps arrived at the bedroom and the door cracked open.

His gun was on the intruder's head before they could react.

He saw her eyes open wide and her hand on the doorknob tremble.

 

"Please don't kill me." She whispered.

His gun went back to his side. "Shit. I'm sorry."

She didn't move, tears filling her eyes silently.

Here came the guilt. "Sorry, it sounded like a bulgar. I won't shoot you, I swear." He thought for a second. "The safety was on."

"No it wasn't" barely a whisper, but he heard it.

He passed a hand in his hair. He had found the only person that didn't hate his guts and agreed to help him and he had to put a gun to her head. Of course. The last month had left him worse than he had thought, but this was no excuse.  Slowly, she moved back out, hands visible.

He followed, leaving the gun in the room. Nothing to gain from its presence. "You can lower your hands, I won't kill you, I'm really sorry."

 

She walked backward to sit on the couch, jumping when she bumped into the low table. She walked around it and sat, never facing away from him. He could see the wetness of her eyes.  With a groan, an to her surprise, he sat down on the floor just in front of the bedroom door and leaned heavily on in. Unntreathening.

"Can you at least lower your hand?" He asked softly.

She followed his instructions, not daring to look away yet. The spot where the cold silencer pressed on her temple felt like it was burning. She could have died. Right there. She wasn't sure the pay was worth it anymore if it ever was.  She managed to look away from him, unaware of how he immediately closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

"I have to make a call." She said quietly. "No, two."

He only nodded as she took out her phone. She could call the police, right there, right now. Or maybe her friends that had planned something with her for the next weekend. Ask them to take her to another place, city, or even country. She dialled her boss' number and awaited his answer.

"This is Dave."

"Hi, it's me. I went to open the Café but it seems some hobo died in front of it Friday night and there's an investigation." Her voice was shaking, she hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Yeah, I just turned around from there. How are you? You seem in shock. Was it the blood?"

She took a shaky breath, eyes glancing to John, in the same position as before, hands free and palms up laying on the floor. "Yeah... I mean... From what the police told me, it happened right after I left... I could have been there."

"Do you need to take a break? I can bring Ginny and Nate to cover for the week."

"No, no. I'll open tomorrow, but I really had to bring you a notice-"

"You're quitting?!"

"I'm so sorry Dave, but I found a really great job in my domain."

"Not to be blunt, honey, but your only domain is cooking and service. I think it takes more than that to be a chef, you know."

"It's... Something else."

"Oh well, we'll talk about that tomorrow. For now, take it easy. You deserve it."

"Thanks Dave. Bye."

 

She hung up after he said goodbye and took a deep breath. The only thing needed now was to get enough courage to make the second call. She didn't even know how she did the first. Her own voice sounded alien, recited for a school play.

"You really want this job?" John asked from his spot, a mix of emotions dancing in his eyes.

"I want to try." She answered, less shiver in her voice and body now that she had passed that first bridge.

"As long as it's your choice and you know in what you're getting yourself into. I don't really approve still."

She nodded, teeth clenched, and pressed for the next number.

 

Charon's rich voice greeted her.

"Hi, this is me again, the doctor from home. The one that passed yesterday? Um yes, I am free today so I just wanted to tell you that I'll be able to take clients the whole day until seven pm." 

Charon, polite as always, thanked her, assured that they would call her home phone before sending anyone over, and waited for her to hang up.

"You're taking people today?"

"Yes. I... I don't know if what I do is right or wrong, but I'm finally healing people... also it pays more so that's a plus."

"Is there somewhere I could..." 

She looked at him. He hadn't move. That ought to be uncomfortable. "It's okay... I'm okay... you can sit somewhere comfortable."

"You sure?"

"Yeah..."

He slowly stood up and walked to a chair. Closer to her but still at a safe distance. "So... I know I asked a lot from you already-" 

"You can hide in my office when someone is in." She said gently.

 

Of course he would have pointed a gun at anyone if he was hunted by everyone remotely dangerous. That would freak her out for a few days, at least, but she could understand his reaction... a bit. He also looked like he really wanted her to like him, or at least not see him as a threat.

"It's the door next to the closet. I didn't have much time to really do anything in it lately, but yeah. There is a comfortable chair and a computer and an old TV and VHS..."

"That's nice."

The silence between them started getting heavy so she stood up.

"Ok, I should probably clean things up if possible clients are going to show up."

"I'll help."

He did, until she saw him limp and pointed to the couch so he could rest. Using the momentum to check and change his bandages and give him painkillers.

~***~

She was about to take out the trash when her house phone ringed and she answered. Unsurprisingly, it was Charon.

"Hello, miss. We have a client that is coming back from business in your part of town. We were wondering if you would agree to treat him before he comes back to the Hotel." 

"Oh.. um.. of course"

 

From the corner of her eye, she saw John moving his hands to get her attention. He started mimicking things to hers. She put the phone between her shoulder and ear before signing to him.

- _What?_ -

His eyes widened in comprehension, and he explained, more clearly, in ALS.

- _What is the client's name?_ -

"Mister Charon? May I have the client's name please?"

"But of course, Miss. The client we would send your way goes by the name of Anderson."

She quickly signed the name and John frowned. 

"Can I have the full name? I would like to have notes. If possible."

"Of course. Thomas Anderson. He comes from Spain, I must say his accent is surprisingly soft."

She turned to John again, sharing the informations.

- _He's an ok guy, but he has wandering hands._ \- He signed back. - _Just make sure to lay the rules before starting treating him._ -

She nodded. "Thank you Mister Charon. I'll get ready for him."

"Pleasure doing business with you, miss."

She hung up.

 

"You speak sign." John pointed out, she couldn't tell if he was impressed or not. 

"I thought it was obvious at that point." 

"Anyone in your family or friend's deaf?"

"No, I just liked the idea and usefulness of it."

"That's noble of you."

"I just think everyone should learn it. As I said, it's very useful."

 

From that moment on, they finished cleaning and setting the couch for the next client with one of Charlie's magic sheets and spread the medical supplies on the low table. When someone knocked at her apartment's door. She awaited the code she had given. It was properly done and she ushered John to the office, waiting for him to lock the door before opening the balcony one.

"Hello. I'm the doc, please get in to the couch." She saw the slashing on the man's legs and made a face. "Try not to put too much blood on the floor please."

"Can't really help it." He answered, looking around while going for the couch.

Another man stepped in before closing and locking the door behind him. And now she felt uneasy.

"I'm sorry, but I wasn't warned about two people, who are you?" She hoped the slight trembling in her voice wasn't noticeable.

"He's my bodyguard." Answered who seemed to be Anderson, dropping on the couch. "No offence, lady, but you're not really well-known in the business yet, and I don't plan on falling into a trap any time soon."

"That's fair..."

 

The second man started opening doors, looking into rooms, and she straightened in horror. What if they found John? Would they kill him? Would he kill them? "What are you doing?" 

"Checking the rooms." Snapped the bodyguard, opening the door to her room.

"Can't a woman have privacy?"

"I apologize for his rudeness, but it is protocol."

When he tried to turn the office's doorknob, she huffed. "That's the door to the neighbors. If I receive a complain, it's on your bill." Pleased when he backed down to check the closet, she grabbed her white coat and sat in front of her client. "What am I looking at?" 

He answered her questions as she treated him. His bodyguard joining them at one point, sitting on a chair nearby with his gun at the ready. After a few push, he agreed to take the safety off until hearing a weird noise.  It took an hour to properly patch him up, knowing he would still have to go downstairs and to the hotel before being able to rest. She gave him some painkillers and again, something for the night. In exchange, the bodyguard handed her an envelope that she barely checked before putting it in her coat.

She remembered John's warning when Anderson playfully slapped her ass on the way out. The door was closed and she locked it, waiting for the car to leave before going to the office door and knocking four times.

 

A few seconds and the lock came off and John exited the room.

"You good?"

"It went well."

"Did he do anything weird to you?" 

She felt herself blush. "He slapped my ass on the way out but that's all."

He chucked. "He must have been in a pretty bad shape."

"Wasn't that bad."

They ate lunch together and he complimented her cooking. A surprisingly domestic scene.

In the evening, a woman showed up limping heavily. She payed cash upon leaving, kissing both of her cheeks as a goodbye before leaving to the Hotel's Taxi.

The supper with John was probably too casual for their background difference, but she found herself not caring. Her job usually left her with very little time to socialize and it was a nice change. She hoped they could be considered friends soon enough. He was already her roommate of some sort. She fell asleep early, exhausted from her lack of sleep the previous night.

John smiled at her and brought her sleeping form to her newly made bed. He was feeling amazing. Not only about that day that screamed casual and made him remember his retired times, but also about his wounds.  He had stayed long enough. She needed safety and he needed to leave her be. He wrote a letter, placing a pile of gold coins next to it, made her some food for the next day, and lied down on the couch. It smelled like her. Citrus and tea. He fell asleep easily. 

~***~

He was awaken by a loud noise and immediately searched for a gun or any weapons possible before he noticed the woman in front of him, looking at him with hostility.

The letter was in her hands. Right. She woke up _really, really early_.

 

"What is this, John?" She asked, voice trembling with anger. "Tell me. What the fuck is that?"

"A letter." He answered, voice still bearing heavy proof that he had just woken up. 

"Yeah. A letter. A letter saying you're leaving with a list of 'never save these people' and a _lunch_?"

From her tone, the lunch was the worse part of it.

"I can't stay here." He answered, still amazed at her change of demeanour. "People are looking for me."

"And you still have healing stitches." She counted before reading the letter out loud. " _Sorry about putting this on you, I'm leaving, I'll pay you back as soon as I can, but for now I made you lunch and left a gun taped to the bottom of your bedside drawer if needed-_ Do I look like I want a gun, John?" 

He could only blink up at her.

" _Take care, I hope you'll get your dream job. John._ What the hell is this bullshit?! Do you think I want to get rid of you?"

"I am a liability." 

"And I don't care!"

 

The silence stretched between them, the only sound that could be heard was her heavy breathing and the sound of the clock on the far wall.

She didn't know what to do with herself. Nothing was supposed to go like this. She was supposed to close shop and go home, sleep during the weekend and go back to her work and boring life. Yet here she was. Saving one man, one stranger who showed her a new path that she preferred despite everything it brought. And, curse her feelings, she thought for a moment that she had made a pretty decent roommate. Maybe even a friend. Guess it was just delusions after all.

 

Her shoulders slumped and she blinked tears away. "Sorry. You do you."

She turned around, grabbed her bag and lunch and left, locking the door behind her and leaving the very shocked man on the couch.

 

 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday guys!  
> Looks like it'll be my usual posting time!
> 
> I now have someone to beta for my more obvious mistakes, and am up to chapter 7 ready.  
> I slowed down a bit with writing, but you'll still all get the weekly updates for a while! I'm getting really excited about getting feedback and showing you more of this story! I got a bit over 23k words for all I did yet, I did mention a slow burn!
> 
> Also, if some of you want to propose names, I need 3 for later characters that come in Chap 7!


	4. I don't like this at all

Work was boring. So, so boring. 

The clash between her new life and the old was enormous and uncomfortable. She, of course, smiled at every client, worked as hard as usual and stayed the usual hour more to help them close, but she couldn't stop thinking about the work she might do tonight... And the empty flat she had to go back to. The rest of the team assumed she just felt down about the day prior's events and let her have her privacy to work more in the kitchen. Toward the end, a handsome man came in, blonde hair slicked back and a smile of white teeth worthy of a toothpaste commercial.

He leaned against the counter and flashed her a smile and wink that made Ginny gasp behind her, but left her with an eyebrow up.

"What can I get you, sir?"

 

He was put off for a millisecond at her lack of swooning... probably. Well, she had to give it to him. He was really cute. But she was currently juggling with a killer in her apartment, a new job in the underground and finishing her two weeks before enjoying the 600$ she had received from Anderson and the 300$ and one coin from the lady as a pay for her work. She had made more in two clients than in a week full time in the Café as a senior employee.

Dating wasn't in her agenda.

"What about your number?" He asked slyly with another heart-stopping smirk.

She sighed internally. "I'm sorry, that's not on today's menu."

"Will it be on the menu tomorrow?"

In her mind, he slid from cute to annoying and she cleared her throat. "Mister, do you plan on purchasing anything here today?"

"If your heart isn't on sale, nothing could satisfy me."

Oh boy.

"Then have a good day, sir."

 

Funnily enough, he winked and left with a wave of his hand.

Ginny was at her side the second the doorbell chimed. "Oh my god. You saw him, right?"

"Ginny, he was literally talking to me."

"But he was so hot! I mean, woah! Why didn't you give him your number? He was interested!"

"Obviously." Seeing no new customers, she moved back to the kitchen, helping out with the next day's pastries. "I have work."

"You got your weekends. And evenings!"

"I see my friends on the weekends."

"Aaaand eveniiings?"

 

Ginny was an adorable kid, but oh dear could she press the buttons a thousand times without noticing her change of demenor.

 

"I have to sleep."

"You sleep better after some hot, steamy-"

"Ginny!"

Her laughter made a few patrons glance at us, but most were used to it.

"I am not going on a date with anyone. I have no time for a relationship and, by the way, he was way too pushy."

"Awww come on... got someone already?"

 

Despite all her self-restraint, her mind went to John. She barely saw him as a friend, but she felt like she would enjoy hanging out with him more than any lovesick boy with a few catchphrases.

"Oh my go- What's his name?!"

"What?"

Ginny was already jumping around in circles. "You hesitated! You got the hots for someone already!"

"He's- a friend"

"Ouuuuh, tell me more!"

 

She remembered their conversations before she left. The coins and the letter. That lunch that she had refused to bring to work out of spite.

 

"Hey, hey, hey. Why do you look sad? What happened? Did he hurt you?"

"No he's just... he's moving away, that's all."

"Away?"

"Another State. Far."

"Oh... I'm sorry for pushing, hon. What about you get that blondie's number instead? Change your mind?"

"I'll pass."

"Well, fair warning, if he asks for mine I'll give it to him. Same if he asks me for yours!"

"Ginny, please!"

"You're thirty-five in two week! Lighten up a little!"

The doorbell rang and saved her from that awkward conversation. "I'm going back in front, stop bothering me. And if he calls me, you're dead meat!"

"Sure, hon~"

 

All was good, comfortable, casual. She almost forgot about getting back to an empty house.

And then, after her shift of course, she crossed the creeps that had come to her door right after she had rescued John. She was walking toward her car when she noticed the shadows slowly closing in on her from all side. Her phone was luckily in her hand, and she dialled the first number that came to mind trying to look as unbothered and obvious of the trap as possible.

Two rings, silence.

"I'm scared." She said quietly, voice shaking. "I didn't think you were home anymore but I'm at work and there is-" she jumped as a hand closed around her shoulder.

One of the goons was right behind her, hand crushing her shoulder like a claw. "Hang up." He gowled. "Right now."

She didn't move it from her ear. She could hear breathing on the other side getting quicker. "Please stay safe I-"

 

The phone was knocked off her hands and she screamed, trying to bring as much attention to her as possible. It worked for a few seconds, but no one seemed to reach from their phone to call. Only a few teens took out their phone to film. _"I'm going to die for views."_ She thought, before she was shoved into a car. If there was one thing she knew, it was to never get pulled into a car or a secondary location when kidnapped, so she fought like all hells were against her, kicking one assailant in the crotch and another in the nose. She slipped from their grasp with the element of surprise, biting a hand that tried to bring her back in, and miraculously escaped the confines of the car, rushing back full-speed toward the shop. It's by her hair that they stopped her this time. She let out a pained yelp as her hands flew to her head to shush the sudden pain. Again, she fought as wildly as she could. She rained kicks and bites and scratches on them, but they were ready this time, blocking or simply shrugging it off. She started crying, slowly loosing hope and strength... Nothing seemed to work.

And then a car crashed into the van they had planned on putting her in.

She recognized the old car of her neighbor Liza that liked to praise herself over it being an antique but couldn't even bother driving it. At the moment, it was a wreak, but also heavily smoking. Shots were fired from the smoke and she let out a choked scream, trying to move away from the man holding her by the neck as an effort to hide herself.

 

He closed his hand tighter around her windpipe as a warning, but she could see that he was nervous from the fighting noises coming from the heavy grey cloud. "Don't fucking move you bi-"

A bang.

A splash of red.

The sensation of falling.

And then she was in someone else's arms, pressed protectively away from the answering bullets. The smell of her own shampoo and a hint of coffee made her feel dizzy, horribly dizzy. Closing her eyes and never opening them seemed like a great idea. She was about to fight back when the silence fell again and she heard a voice. A voice of barely controlled rage, but one that she knew.

 

~***~

 

He had been making his bag out of a discarded duffel he had found when the phone rang. At that time, it was a client or she was checking if he was still in. He wanted to be. He couldn't.

After the second ring he answered.

"I'm scared." Said her voice, quiet and sounding exactly as she said she was.

What the-

"I didn't think you were home anymore but I'm at work and there is-" Her voice was already shaking, she gasped and he could hear a second voice. Deep. Threatening her. Asking her to drop the phone. "Stay safe I-"

The phone was apparently thrown to the ground when he heard her scream on the other line. He hung up and dashed out.

 

He remembered that she had joked about her neighbor's car that was apparently never used. He went to it, jumping down the last flight of balcony stairs. The window broke with a clothed punch and he slid in to start the motor with severed cables. His heart was thundering in his ribcage as it always did during his missions, but this was one where he couldn't waste a second. The wheels screeched on the road as he rushed far over the speed limit to her Café. It wasn't far by any means. Ten minutes tops. But he made it in five. Upon arrival, what greeted him was a gang he had met a few years before Helen, before retirement. One was pulling a woman with a familiar red coat by her hair towards a blue van. Getting ready, he slammed into it. Using the cover of the smoke, he brought two men down, a bullet to their head. Another tried to tackle him, but he twisted around, shot a fourth twice in the chest, once in the head before ending the life of the one still stuck under him. A fifth came out of the van, and his face was swiftly slammed into the vehicle before a bullet lodged itself in his head. There was only one left, holding her like a shield and scanning the smoke nervously.

 

He could see the trail of tears on her cheeks and the redness of her face as her assailant pressed on her throat. Choking her with or without meaning to. One shot and he let go, dead before hitting the ground. Her body didn't have the time to meet the concrete before he arrived to her, pulling his free arm around her shaking form. A shot hit a pole next to them and he turned his arm, fury in his eyes, as he pulled the trigger without uncovering her from that much needed protection. The last goon went down.

 

"I'm here." He soothed as best as he could, teeth still clenched. He felt her muscles loosen up in his grip.

 

With a last check of the situation, he gently pulled her to her car. John checked her for any wounds. The only blood on her was from the asshole that was restraining her and was put down. There was light bruises around her neck too but nothing major. Cradling her in his arms, he finally arrived to her car he had spotted on his way, placed her in the passenger seat and clipped her seatbelt. He sat behind the wheel, grabbing the keys from her to start the engine. He dropped her phone he had found on the ground in her hands and drove back toward the flat. As if nothing had happened. He could see her shaking from the corner of his eye, silent tears sliding down her cheek as her breathing increased in speed. He put his hand on hers, waiting for her to pull it back, but when she didn't, he grabbed it, passing his thumb on her knuckles.

 

"It's ok. It's ok I got you. Deep breaths."

She did her best to follow his instructions before her phone rang. The face on the screen was unfamiliar to him, but it looked like a known contact. Her fingers slipped but managed to take the call and put it on speaker. 

The man's voice filled the car. "Holy fuck, thank god you answered! Are you okay?!"

She whimpered a small "Yes." That sounded anything but sure.

"Hey, breathe in, breathe out. Are you close? You shouldn't be alone during a panic attack! Fuck. We heard the shots and a ton of people rushed in to get away. I sent an ex-police guy to find you but I didn't have any answer. Where are you? You're not driving I hope-"

From the corner of his eye, John could see her breathing worsen under the questions. At a red light, he grabbed the phone, turned off the speaker and pressed it to his ear. "She's going home. She's fine. Call later."

He hung up and threw it back to her before the light turned green again. She was staring at him, he could feel it. 

"He was making you worse. I'm getting you home, and then you'll call back. Alright?" 

She nodded and opened an app on her phone. Something about a bubble moving up and down the screen. 

 

~***~

 

Her breathing was already calming down when they arrived to her apartment. No one had even seemed to notice the absence of Liza's car and, after parking, John walked around the car and opened her door. Her breath quickened again. She had a bit of blood on her sleeve. She could feel some specks drying on the side of her face. Being a doctor didn't give her any help to cope with someone's head being shot next to her ear.

"Hey."

This time, his voice was way softer. Worry instead of rage. She looked at him. His blue shirt suited him, and apart from his hair that was a little more ruffled than usual, he looked as if nothing had happened. She felt herself tear up and threw herself in his arms, the seatbelt stopping her halfway in an awkward position. Arms extended toward him but only going close enough to be able to grab his shoulder. His arm went around her to unlock the buckle and passed it off her with surprising tenderness. Especially coming from someone that had killed seven people a few minutes prior. He placed her bag on her lap and slid an arm under her legs and one behind her back. Before she could blink, she was out, arms immediately moving behind his neck. He pushed the door close with his hip and casually walked to the staircase.

"W-Wait!" She stammered jabbing her phone in her bag and clutching it to her chest. "You can't come upstairs! You'll tear your stitches!"

"I won't."

"Put me down! Doctor's order!"

 

She was panting a bit still, but seemed way better than a minute before. Her legs barely wobbled when her feet touched the ground again. The way she walked up and unlocked the door was so full of spite and anger that he followed her in without hesitation, closing and locking the door behind him. She sat on her couch after slipping off her coat and boots, patting the spot next to her. He took off his own shoes and made his way to her, sitting where she asked. They stayed there for a while, sitting side to side. He had just opened his mouth when she broke it.

"Are you going to leave?"

The room fell back into silence. And her phone rang again.

"I have to take this." She whispered before moving to her room to answer, closing the door behind her.

 

John let out a long sigh. She had done a great job on his stitches. The fight had taken a toll on them, but they weren't more than mildly uncomfortable. Not torn. To be honest with himself, he had no idea what to do. The goons he put down were part of a bigger organization and would probably come by to get her if that really was their plan. He could probably go deal with them all and come back, but he could get stuck or point her as a link to him. So that was a very bad idea. He couldn't stay, and yet he couldn't see himself leaving. Maybe he could buy the place next door. He had the money to pull it off and she wouldn't have to have him under her roof anymore. He could go get his dog back, but that was an even worse idea. Spotting the dog meant spotting him. Still came that weird feeling of home. His house was out of the question. He needed somewhere to sleep after all, so maybe he could ask her for the name of her landlord.

She finally came out the door and his teeth closed on the question he wanted to ask. Her face was drained of blood and she was gripping the doorframe to stay upright.

"I- The police wants to see me."

 

Fuck.

 

~***~

 

She answered Dave's call as soon as the bedroom door closed behind her.

 

"I'm fine." She stated.

"Are you really?!"

His outburst surprised her. "Yes. I'm calmed down and all. I'll be fine."

"But what about." His voice went down a notch. "The murderer?"

"What?"

"Listen, you don't get many visits, and I never heard that man's voice before. The security cameras showed a man shooting and taking you away."

Her legs gave up under her, luckily it was when she was about to sit on the bed. "Oh..."

"I mean, it also showed the group if men trying to kidnap you, and smoke and bad quality hid most of the shooting action, but the man holding you was shot and another grabbed you and shot one more I think? Then both of you disappeared around the corner to your car?" She heard some other voices behind him. "I- Um... Listen. Whoever that guy is, you should get away and let the police handle it."

 

His retelling of the events brought flashes of memories to the front of her mind. The efficiency, the number, the uselessness. "They wouldn't have made it." She whispered in shock.

"What?"

"I- Dave. When did the police arrived?"

"Um... two minutes after the shots ended."

"And... did they come for the shots or for the kidnapping?"

"The shots, but, I mean, it goes with."

"No it doesn't. Gosh. I could have been stuck in a weird rusty warehouse by now. Just because no one would have called or reacted in time- Jesus Christ!"

"Hey, listen, I don't know about your boyfriend, but the police want to talk to you."

She decided to pass over the boyfriend part. That wasn't important for now. "They what now?"

"Shady people made an attempt to kidnap you. It's a police-worthy situation. And again, I'm not even mentioning your hero with a gun. This could get really bad, really fast."

"Yeah... yeah ok..." She breathed, feeling all the blood leave her face. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

"Don't hang up on me, I am-"

 

She hung up, palms sweating. Her legs only let her wobble to the door. Here he was, still relaxed on the couch, not visibly harmed, but his expression changed drastically when he saw her.

 

"I-" She could feel her bones trembling. "The police wants to see me."

 

His expression said it all.

 

 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this chapter a little rushed, sorry if there is mistakes  
> I will be out to a convention tomorrow so I won't be able to REALLY post it on Friday (Well, it is 2AM here...)
> 
> I send you all a lot of love, and I still need 3 names for bonus characters (One gal, one pal, one non-binary)!
> 
> Also keep it up with the kudos, they brighten my day like nothing else (and don't make me start on the comments)


	5. When she came to the Cafe

"I have an idea."

"Is it to kill the cops? Because I'm not letting you kill any cops."

"It's not to kill the cops."

 

She glared at him instead of answering.

"Listen. I need you to call a number. I'll tell you what to say and everything should be ok with the police."

"I'm not calling someone else to kill cops either!"

"No cops will die."

"I don't want to do it! You do it!" 

"I told you, I can't be on the radar."

"I don't wanna be on it ei-"

 

Her phone rang. She checked the number and answered, one finger raised and a very obvious glare of 'we're not done yet' was directed toward the man at her side. It would have been hilarious in a different situation.

"It's me."

"Hello, miss. We again have a client to propose you for this evening."

"I would love to have a name if I could?"

"Ivan Netrov, he will probably come by with a few of his men. He is a bit paranoid."

-Who this time?- Asked John from the side. He nodded when she gave him the name. -I'll need to hide well, but it'll be ok.- 

"I'll take him." She hesitated. "Mister Charon?" 

"Yes."

"Someone tried to pull me into an unfortunate situation and I retaliated as I saw fit." Gosh, she was becoming good at this. Saying it in front of the mirror had helped more than she had thought it would. "Can someone else deal with those? I have work to do."

Charon chuckled on the other line. "I heard about your problems miss. They will be taken care of."

"Thank you, have a nice evening."

She hung up.

 

"So?"

"They said they would deal with it?" 

John didn't look convinced at all. "You should call the number I proposed still. To be sure."

"Ok, ok. But for now you need to hide really well. They said he would probably come with a bunch of his men."

"Ok. But do tell me. What safe word do you want?"

She could feel her cheeks burning as she chocked on her answer. "What-"

"If something goes wrong, I need to know. What word do you want to use?"

 

She tried to calm her beating heart and the not-PG-13 images that had sprouted into her head. "Oh. Oh, of course, yes. What about groceries?"

He nodded.

"If I talk about needing to go buy groceries, that'll be your cue."

"Sounds good."

"Also I don't think everyone will fall for the 'office door is neighbours door' thing for forever."

"It has to work for tonight. I have a plan for later."

"That's good."

What could she say? He was a man of little words.

 

He stood up to get his clothes and weapons from the bedroom to put in the office and she sighed deeply. His hesitation about the Continental dealing with the police had made her even more uneasy. What if it wasn't enough and she ended up behind bars. She shook her head and went to get her covering sheet and tools, setting the couch and table for her client and placing enough chairs for a party of eight bodyguards, just in case. When John passed toward the office, she called his name which made him stop in his tracks and look at her.

"Um... I just want to say... Thank you for saving me today."

"You don't have to-"

"But please try to just knock everyone out or give non-lethal wounds next time, it's easier without murder on my hands..."

He stared at her for a minute. "What?"

"I'm sorry I just- I'm not a fan of murder?"

Silence

"I'll do my best." He said before disappearing into the office, locking the door behind him.

 

It took but a few moments before the knock was heard and she opened the door. Two men rushed in before she could ever start to greet them or invite them in, guns at the ready, they started scanning the apartment and she sighed loudly.

"The door next to the coat closet is linked to my neighbour. If you break it or punch it and I get a complaint, it's on your bill. Feel free to check the rest, my tampons are next to the toilet."

They seemed to avoid it for now, and she turned to see three men holding another one that was covered in blood.

"Shit. Couch, now. Lie him down."

They rushed in and two more men closed the door, a last one apparently staying outside as a lookout. 8 bodyguards. She had been right about the number at least. Not that it mattered, it was just... Nice. She put on her white coat, folding the sleeves as usual, and started checking her patient. It was extremely bloody, but at least it looked like they were just a lot of small cuts, none of them deep.

Torture, maybe.

She peeled his shirt off and started cleaning the wound, cutting herself from everything else but her work. Clean, disinfect, stitch. Clean, disinfect, stitch. The sheer number of cuts and tears made it last longer than any of the other clients she had. When she finished dressing the last of his wounds, there was barely any patch of skin visible. The seven bodyguards were sitting around the house in the chairs she had prepared.

 

Scanning them, she spotted one that was holding his arm. "You. Yeah you, come here and bring your chair."

They all stared at her. 

"I won't eat him, his arm is messed up."

"You have the pay for our boss-"

"Then it's on the house. I'm not letting anyone cross the door with broken parts. Except if you attack me but that's another story."

The man she had called over slowly made his way to her, as unsure as the rest. She even heard a safety coming off. 

"Let me see."

His arm was indeed broken, but it only took a few minutes to check the damages and to make him a sling. She stood to get some ice and 3 guns immediately pointed her.

"Come on, I'm getting ice. Someone want to do that for me since my breathing seems so dangerous?"

A man stood and went to the kitchen. She sat down, rolling her eyes.

She also ended up cleaning one's head injury and one's bullet hole before giving out pills and sending them on their way. She received the classic envelope, but a few of the men also slid coins in her hand as thanks. When the door finally closed, she stood up, locked it and looked around.  Most of the blood was safely on the sheet, but the bodyguards had left quite a few dirt and blood marks on her floor.

 

She walked to the office and knocked 4 times. Before she could greet him, John's hand was on her mouth and he went to the clock. He wasn't making a single sound and made her a sign to come his way. She sighed and walked to him. As soon as she stopped, he reached and grabbed something taped to the clock, showing the small device to her.

"Oh come on! Really?"

He crushed in in his palm and walked to the kitchen, pulling another from behind her oven. He stopped in other various places until he stopped in front of the kitchen sink, put the debris into a glass and filled it with water.

"Was that the last one?"

"Yes."

She paused. "How did you know?"

"The one posted next to the office talked about it."

She tried to remember a moment the bodyguard talked and her eyes widened. "You speak Russian? Scratch that, of course you do." She passed a hand on her face and looked up at him. "What do I do now?"

"Complaining seems like a good idea."

"... Right."

"You got his name. You can call the hotel."

"Fair enough..."

"Do that, I'll clean up."

She stared at him for a second. "Oh. Oh, yes, sure."

 

And there she was in the bedroom, phone in hand, complaining about Ivan's men hiding mikes all over her place. Charon's voice did not even take a change in tone and she started to wonder if he was actually just a robot. Next thing she knew, her phone was ringing again. It was a woman's voice on the other line this time.

"Am I talking to the Doc?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Tina."

The first client. "Oh! Hi! How are you?"

"I'm doing great thanks to you. I heard someone tried to mess with you. You alright?" 

"Yes..."

"I heard about the shooting. Was that you?"

"They tried to pull me into a car. I didn't want to."

It was the truth after all. She could hear Tina laugh on the other end.

"That is great. Better if you don't need a bodyguard. I can't say I wouldn't have said yes to the position if asked."

"That's... Very kind of you."

"I'm waiting for a job after all. What gang was it?"

"I- I'm not sure... I don't know many people." 

"Well, guess we'll learn who you are when the names will come out, then. Apart from today, how's business?"

"Not bad. I might have to get an office of some kind because some assholes put mikes all around my place."

"You took them out?" 

"They're all swimming in some water. They weren't subtle enough."

"You're cooler than you look!"

"Um... thanks?"

"No, no, I mean. You came up to my room tripping over your own feet, looking like a fish out of water. And there you are, finding devices, shooting mobs that tried to cross you. That's pretty badass." 

"Well, thank you."

 

A warm feeling spread in her chest and she felt suddenly light. She had made a friend. A real friend from the underground. It seemed like a very odd dream.

"I guess you got some work to attend to. I'll leave you be, but if you ever pass by the Hotel again, please do tell me so we can get a drink! I'd love to know more about you!"

"I would love to."

"Then it's settled! Goodnight, doc! Keep up the good work!"

"Goodnight, Tina. It's a pleasure."

Tina hung up fist and she put the phone down, feeling giggly. She probably shouldn't be so happy about being friends with an assassin, but it seemed like a nice thing to have, a friend, in that world.

 

There was a knock at the door, John was leaning against the doorframe.

"I'm done cleaning up and I had a question."

"Um... Go for it?"

"Can I call your Landlord?" 

She tilted her head in confusion. "What for?"

"You don't have an immediate neighbour."

She frowned. "That is true."

"I wanted to know if I could take the place next door. I would leave you alone, but I'd be able to stay close if anything had to happen. I need a place to stay anyway." 

"I don't mind a roommate." She blurted out before she could think, closing her mouth quickly and hoping he hadn't heard.

"I'm stressing you out more than I help."

"That's not true!"

Gosh, where was her goddamn reason when she was speaking to him? Did Ginny get into her head? 

 

He blinked slowly. "I can't keep hiding in your office, especially if you get into this doctor job full-time. Someone is bound to be a little too curious and daring. If they find out you're hiding me, you'll be done for."

"Nice things in perspective I see."

"This is not a joke."

"Then why don't you buy it and we fuse the places?" 

A heavy silence fell into the room. 

"We what?"

"I need an office place. As little doors as possible so I don't get a full-on search every time someone gets in. You need a bedroom. If we break some walls and take away the other side's kitchen to make it my work space, I get a big room to work in that I can sterilize, I just have to change the staircase address. The rest could be fused to make a bigger living space and we'd have two bedrooms, one big living room, two offices or rooms for whatever, one shared bathroom and one for my clients."

She was completely crazy, it was obvious. She didn't have the money for that. Who would she even call? Would her landlord even agree to this? Too many maybes and perhaps, she looked down.

"Sorry. I got overexcited, I don't even have the budget for that."

"That was actually good."

She looked up at him. He was thinking, eyes burning holes into hers. 

"We could use the renovations to bulletproof the windows, make the walls stronger and turn this place into a safe house."

"I- I like the idea but-" 

"I'll pay, don't worry, I need a place."

"But-"

"See it as a way to repay you."

"Two breakfasts and five meals with some stitches doesn't equal a full apartment plus renovations plus being my bodyguard!" 

"To be honest, you offered me a true safe place. This is nothing I think I can ever repay." 

 

She ended up calling her landlord and explaining the proposition to him. He refused at first, but after telling him the outrageous cost John was willing to put on it, it was easy to get the green light. John told her who to call and what to say to get it done well, and then she had to tell the Hotel to keep her clients to a minimum during the makeover. She still went to work for the whole week, reciting what John had told her to the officers that seemed to nod more for the people watching them than for her. Her roommate had told her about the cops' own underground and their status quo with the assassins' one. She couldn't stop Dave from worrying for her, neither could she against the rest of the team that had been here or had heard about the shootings.

On her Friday shift, the blond ken doll came again, flashing his same _Colgate_ smile as he approached the counter.

"Hello again, sir." Swooned Ginny, playing with a strand of her hair.

"Hi, sweetheart. Is the other cute one in today?"

Even from her spot in the back, she could hear Ginny let out a lovesick sigh.

"Yeah, she's in the back~" 

"Great, I can't say that not getting her numbers last time didn't hurt. I am, after all, only hungry for love." 

Ginny giggled, leaning towards him. "Well, I have it. Do you want it?" 

 

On this, her hand left the dough and she quickly stepped between the two, not willing to be spammed by that man, no matter how many time he could wink perfectly.

"He might, but I don't." She snapped at her bubbly friend before turning to the man again. "I'm sorry, sir, but I do not plan on giving you my number anytime soon."

"What happened to 'not today'?" 

"Surprisingly enough, we're still today."

He smirked at her. More predator than seductive. "I could try rocking you to tomorrow if you gave me the chance."

"No." a pause. "Sir." 

"Let me try something else. What if I gave you my number, and the moment your current boyfriend takes off, you give me a call?"

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Then I'm ahead of schedule."

He was giving her second-hand embarrassment at that point. This was just awful, and for a second she wished that John could be seen in public just so he could come to the shop to escort her home. Maybe Ginny would finally understand that she didn't want to date anyone. And to be honest she wouldn't mind people thinking she was dating John. He was nice to her and quite handsome. Maybe he would be able to come if he let his beard grow. Or completely shaved it off. People could change so much with a shave.

She had to ask him. For the moment, Ken was still awaiting whatever answer to whatever question he asked.

"Sorry. I was lost in thoughts."

"About me I hope."

"In a way." 

The doorbell rang, but she kept her attention on the annoying prick.

"You are very pushy." She said, caring less and less about his precious client's status.

"I'm good at it. You good at taking? I can push really deep."

Wow. Now this was just uncomfortable.

 

Someone cleared their throats and both waitresses and the man looked at the newcomer.

"So sorry, my throat was itchy." Said Tina with a gorgeous smile. "I don't want to disturb, but I would like a coffee and you seem to be talking about something else at the moment." 

The Ken doll's eyes widened when he saw her and he lost a huge chunk of his usual charm. 

"Why don't you go somewhere else, Larry. Not getting coffee at a coffee shop is quite counterproductive." 

He nodded and left as fast as he could as she delicately smiled.

"Hello, my dear. Could I ask for what you would suggest with an espresso?"

She couldn't help but smile at her dark-haired friend. The weight of the world leaving her shoulders. "Well of course. I made cinnamon buns this morning and they are great."

"Cinnamon buns? I hope you're not eating them, that would be cannibalism!"

Ginny kept looking from one woman to the other in utter confusion.

Tina smiled wide. "I'm so glad you're so healthy. Would you like for us to have coffee after this? I'd like to see your place! I heard people can have bugs in the weirdest places and that would be a great moment to catch up."

She knew that her codes were more obvious than what she usually did. Tina was apparently trying really hard to make sure she understood everything, so she nodded. "I'm renovating so I'll make sure the construction guys are away. Would you give me a minute? I could arrange that now."

"Anything for you, darling~"

 

With a huge smile, she gave her her espresso and cinnamon bun on the house for shooing away Ken-but-apparently-Larry. She then left her place to Ginny for a few minutes, dialling home.

Two rings, silence. She was getting used to it. "Hi, it's me, I have a friend that would like to come over after work. Is the work still too loud?"

A tap. -no-

"Cool, can I bring her?"

Two taps.

She frowned. He hadn't told her about a two-taps code. "Um... i'm sorry... I just-"

"Who."

Her heart almost jumped out of her ribcage at the sound of his voice. "Oh! Tina! I met her when I went to the hotel. We hit it off!"

Silence.

Right. Yes or no questions.

"Can she come?"

A tap. -no-

"You know her I guess?" 

Silence -yes-

"Oh... She's really friendly..."

Three taps.

Ok, that wasn't known either. They needed a better code than that.

"Alright, I get it. I'll come back alone since the house is so unfit for visitors."

Silence. -yes-

She hung up and pouted at her phone. If he didn't give her a good reason tonight, she would bring Tina in anyway the next time she would ask.

 

She walked back to the front, slipping her apron on again. "I'm back."

"What did it say?" Asked Tina, still at the counter, using it like a bar. She was so stunning there was no wonder to why Ginny let her do it.

"I called the workers. My house is still too much of a work in progress to be comfortable for visitors."

"I'm not difficult."

"And I like first impressions." 

Tina smiled wide. "You're so cute! Alright, I'll pass this time, but you have to know that I'll get to have a girls' night with you one day or the other!"

She couldn't help but laugh. Why was John so closed up about her coming around? Was she not allowed to have friends while he was around?

"Of course, of course."

"Well, I gotta run. Catch you later, doc~"

"See you around, Tina~"

 

She could almost feel Ginny vibrating behind her.

"Yes, Ginny?"

"Do you just attract hot people or did you pay them to mess with me?"

"Ginny, come on."

"First that underwear supermodel, then that drop-dead gorgeous woman? What's next? Tom Hiddleston? Chris Evans?"

"Ginny no."

"You are so weird lately! Does barely avoiding kidnapping makes you suddenly attractive to hot people?"

"No idea." 

With that, she went back to the kitchen and finished her shift with a smile. If only he could have come by to see how great Tina was...

 

Compared to the last two day, the way home was entirely too boring. To think than she was stopped by the police on Monday and almost kidnapped on Tuesday... Maybe wishing for a more adventurous life had worked out after all... She opened the door on a pretty different apartment than when she left it. But it was more because of the plastic on her furniture and the dust all around than because it was suddenly all good and pretty. The wooden floors looked nice so far.

"Hello, home." She said, noticing that she hadn't greeted her house in a while. Since John.

Talking about him, he came out of the office and checked her up for possible wounds and whatnot.

"John. I'm fine."

"How was Tina?" 

Oh, yes. That part. "Tina was great and nice, thank you. She made a creepy guy leave me alone." She crossed her arms. "So, what's the beef you have against her?" 

"She's... Manipulative."

"Oh. Really?"

"Yes. She looks friendly so she'll be able to stab you in the back."

"You got any proof?"

"Knife scar, barely missed my spine."

"Oh."

He meant literally. Good to know.

"What are her usual techniques?"

"Being friendly, smiling, wanting to pass time together and then she strikes."

She made a face. Great. Now she had to choose between her maybe friend and her roommate. She didn't like making choices between people when she trusted them. It was like choosing a favourite child and having to tell both children about it.

"I want to hang out with her still... I'll do it at the nearby tea house if it makes you feel better."

He didn't seem pleased with her answer. In fact, he just wanted to explain her the whole story. The meeting at the hotel. The number he left on the table after she wrote it down for him. The mission she asked for him to join. The way everything was going very well until she remembered that two millions are bigger without being split between two assassins. The knife was still in his stuff, buried, unreachable. He didn't really care about it anyway. His life was more important. His dog was more important. 

He looked at her, her arms still crossed and looking at the wall radiating annoyance.

_She._

_She was more important._

 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay, I actually completely forgot about posting the chapter!
> 
> It's only one day late, but I'll do better on the next one! Chapter 5 already! Longest since Chapter 2!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy what will come next!


	6. Leave me not

Soon, it was Friday.

Charon had taken great care in remembering the renovations and she only had one other client on Wednesday. A blonde woman with a sprained ankle, a broken arm and two bruised ribs. Easy peasy. Dave let her leave early this time, feeling guilty in some way of all the things that had plagued her the past few days. If only he knew how much worse it was. On the other hand, Tina had called her again, impressed. Apparently, the gang that had tempted a kidnapping was working for a family named Sanders. They were an underground family of drug lords apparently searching for a fourteen million head. She had a pretty good idea of whose head it was. Tina told her a bit, still careful over the phone like John was. The Sanders family was renowned for its efficacy and had apparently held the fault and deaths over a bad bunch. They hadn't sent their best, probably just random goons searching for a promotion. She wondered if they still would have came if they knew that John was going to come by. Apparently he was a big name by himself.

The assassin asked her for a meeting at the hotel so they could speak freely about her newfound reputation. An event was coming up and she extended an invitation. John, unsurprisingly, wasn't trilled by the idea.

"I'm going in the Hotel. You said it was safe!"

"It was before you became known."

"You made me famous, might I say." 

"By saving your life, yes, but that's not the point. You are not a random face in the crowd anymore."

"I don't think they really know what I look like..."

"But they will. The way there will be fine, it's coming back that I am not sure. People tried to take you once. They won't stop there, especially the Sanders."

She knew that he lived in that world way longer than her. But there was something about his overprotective nature that ticked her off. She felt like a child being grounded.

"I'll be fine. If I'm not sure about it, I'll warn you and ask for a taxi or something."

Apparently, that still wasn't enough. 

"Wait? You're coming with? I thought you were supposed to be off the radar or something!"

"I don't trust you to be alone there."

"I'm not the head they want." 

"You're wanted still. And even if no drinks really can get drugged without being noticed by the eyes around, I would prefer staying close by, just in case."

"What do I say? About you?" She asked, confused about how this could be the better plan. "That you're my bodyguard? Roommate? Old friend?" A small pause. "Escort?" 

"Escort means I am meant to be seen. I plan on keeping the attention on you. You won't even know I'm here."

"Won't someone else know you're there? What will be your cover anyway?"

"No one will know, and it will be easier if you do not search for me. You'll bring attention if you scan the room every five minutes."

"I wouldn't have done that..." Yes. Yes she would have.

"We need to go."

"Fine. Let's go."

~***~

The drive was spent talking about codes and planning exists. He wasn't kidding when he said he knew the place. He was talking about possible exits through rooms she hadn't ever seen and of people she never had met.

She could feel her heart beating strongly in her chest when she stopped a few streets from the hotel. Where he got off, nodded at her, and disappeared in the crowd. His brighter clothes that weren't a suit - if you considered blue jeans and a brown vest bright - changed him a bit, but she didn't know if it was enough. So many things could go wrong with him around, but at the same time, she felt safer knowing he would be close if there was any problems. She made her way to the front of the Hotel, a valet taking her car keys as soon as she stepped out. She passed the main door and arrived on the lobby floor, a trio talking to Charon at the moment. She felt as if every glances sent her way burned into her flesh. Was she already found out? Could they smell John? Stress was already crushing her lungs and she tried to breath, remembering that she had wanted to come by alone before and hadn't stressed about it.

Soon it was her turn to speak to Charon, and she tensed up again, following the plan.

"Evening, Miss."

"Evening, Charon. I am here for the meeting?"

"Yes of course."

Suddenly remembering, she slid a gold coin to him that he took with the same polite smile as always. "I was wondering if I could get the directions? I wasn't really shown that part of the Hotel yet..."

"Well, if it isn't the Café girl!"

She recognized this voice and did not like it _at all_. She turned, barely hiding a glare.

Larry-ken-doll himself was walking to her, all smile, two women following him and giggling.

"Sir." She replied with a cold tone. 

"No need for formalities! If I knew you were a member of the Continental I would have greeted you in the appropriate manner. Especially since I can get to see you in this dress all evening!" 

"Mister Roman." Said the calm voice of Charon. "Are you here for the party?"

"Well of course!"

"Then I'll be right to you." He turned back his attention towards her and slid a folded piece of paper on the marble counter. "Here is what you asked, Miss. Have a delightful evening."

"Thank you Charon." There probably was way too much emotion in her voice, but she snatched the paper, read the first line and walked away to the elevator.

When the door closed, she noticed Larry trying really hard to quicken his exchange, probably to ride the elevator with her. She owed the concierge even more now.

 

The plan helped her navigate to the elevator, then down a dirty-looking staircase that lead to a labyrinth of pipes and conducts. She was about to ask around since she felt lost when she stopped in front of a black door. She looked at her notes and slid a coin in the space that apparently required one. The sound of a latch opening made her jump slightly in surprise. On a background of reds and greens was the face of a man that looked at her for an uncomfortably long two seconds before the door was opened. She walked in and navigated around the tables and patrons, looking straight ahead.

She jogged as soon as she spotted Tina. Her name was almost squealed before the surprisingly strong arms of her friend lifted her up and put her down. The assassin moved back, looking at her dress and smiling even more.

"You look great, darling! Was there any other problems during the past day?" 

Following her friend, the doctor sad down across her with a huge smile. "Thank you so much, it's been great. My old boss let me go home early today so I could get here sooner." 

Her friend frowned. "What's wrong? You look shaken up!" 

"Larry. Crossed his path in the lobby."

Tina's eyes squinted lightly, rage visible in her posture. "Did he touch you?"

"No, no, Charon saved me. I owe him a big one."

"If he comes here and even try to touch you, I swear-"

She chucked at the assassin, feeling lighter already. "Tina, please. No business on Continental grounds."

"Yeah, but he can still go to hell."

"Thank you for protecting me, it helps a lot."

She nodded and leaned toward the doctor. "You know what's the weirdest about you?"

The woman shook her head as an answer, unsure of where this was going. 

"You don't have the eyes of a killer."

"What?"

Tina's knuckles caressed her cheeks gently, protectively. "We all have the same eyes here. The eyes of people that killed. That saw someone's life leave their corpses after reaping them ourselves. It being by knife, or guns, or hands." A sigh. "Your eyes still shine as if it never happened, as if you could completely stay above it all, distance yourself from the battlefield."

"I see blood enough-" 

"You know it's not about blood." 

She didn't know how to answer. Her whole life started changing around John, everything being credited to her. The kills. She remembered the deafening sound, the small gurgling gasp of the man next to her ear, the thud of his body hitting the concrete.

Tina placed a hand on hers. "Hey, hey. Stop thinking about it. I pushed and shouldn't have. We're here to have a good time after all." A glorious smile again. "What do you want to drink? Wine? Beer? Cocktails? Shots?"

It had been way too long since she had set foot in a bar. Everything was mixed in her mind. "Maybe a cocktail?"

"I'll get you the good stuff! And if that asshole comes by, call me, I'll set Addy on his sorry ass."

"Addy?" 

Tina just winked and went to the bar. 

 

Having some time for herself, she checked her phone for any messages before putting it back into her hidden pocket. No message from John meant no problem so far. And then Larry walked to her again and sat in Tina's place.

"Café girl, do tell me, are you avoiding me?"

One of the woman slid next to her, trapping her against the wall.

"Sir. I thought I was clear enough when I said I wasn't interested."

"But you never tried me, darling, how could you know?"

That was enough. "Alright. Let's get something straight here. I am not interested and I am sick of being nice. You are entirely too creepy and uncomfortable to be around, you don't understand what 'no' means so that is a huge-ass red flag, you are pushy, immature and impolite. Get off my table and don't talk to me again."

His eyes changed. Passing from joyful to predatory. She closed out on herself out of sheer instinct.

"I tried to be nice, girl, but as I can see, it's not enough. I know who I am, but you don't seem to. I am Larry N. Roman. Heir of the Roman family. I get what I want, and no bitch will get in my way."

"Also no one will want to be polite to you, Mister Roman."

They all turned to Winston, looking down disapprovingly at the man with a glass in hand. 

"Winston-" 

"Don't talk to me, Larry. You are making a fool of yourself and one of our honoured guest and employee uncomfortable. I need to ask you to leave her table and leave her alone for the rest of the evening if you wish to stay for the event."

 

She did not know how he managed to sound that cold yet warm. She straightened up with a grateful smile as Larry walked away with both his escorts, leaving her with the manager that sat in front of her. 

"Miss. Pleasure to see you again. Are you alright?"

Her eyes went to her hands, playing with the edge of a napkin nervously. "Oh, yes. Thank you so much for that, he is... quite... pushy."

"Yes, he is a dick."

She snapped up, staring at him in surprise and he laughed.

"Don't worry, my dear. We all know he is. It is just annoying to know he chose you as his latest victim, but from what I heard, you can hold your grounds quite well."

"Thank you, sir." 

"Winston, please." 

"Winston."

Another smile. He made her think of a father, he kind of acted like one too. One father dealing with a hundred of overactive children that didn't hide having a favorite. 

"Miss, if I may ask, how is your client?"

"The last wasn't so bad, she left conscious and cursing so that's a good sign."

"No, I mean your  _client_."

She blinked. Did he know? He sure looked like he did. "My first client went home." 

"Really?"

She looked around nervously, hoping to see John or Tina, but neither were there.

His voice got softer, quieter, barely hearable with the music and voices around them. "One old friend of mine disappeared recently. Which would be normal if so many eyes were not looking for him. And the day following his sudden disappearance from the map, you appear." 

She felt a drop of sweat slide down her back as she tried her best to keep a straight face. "Coincidence I guess."

Another smile from him. "Of course, it could be. But I care very much about that friend of mine. And I would like to ask you a single question. One only that you promise to answer truthfully."

She didn't know what to say, so she nodded. And there, right in front of her, Winston seemed to gain ten years. Eyes that had seen too many die in his arms. Voice that had to give the order to kill too many time. He looked exhausted. But oh, so hopeful.

"Is he well?" 

"He is."

Winston became himself again, smiled wide and tipped his glass to her. "Well thank you, miss. It was a pleasure talking to you."

"Of course, anytime."

 

As soon as he moved back to the crowd, Tina sat back at her spot. "Hey, I saw Larry accosting you, but Addy stopped me when she saw Winston walking towards you. I hadn't seen him that annoyed in a while, guess you're his new favorite."

"What?" 

Tina slid a cute drink toward her as she clarified. "Winston has favorites, everyone knows that, but for a while his ultimate favorite was the Boogeyman."

"Boogeyman?" She took a sip of her drink, enjoying the fruity taste and the burn that followed. 

"Yeah, John Wick."

She ignored the fact that she didn't ask for John's last name, and did her best to assume it was someone else. No one nicknamed "the Boogeyman" could be washing dishes at her place. 

"I stabbed him once, Wick. He let me live because I was young and dumb. I guess I was also very lucky."

 

_"Yes. She looks friendly so she'll be able to stab you in the back."_

_"You got any proof?"_

_"Knife scar, barely missed my spine."_

Oh.

 

"What does he look like?"

"Why do you want to know that?"

"Well, apparently, he's dangerous. It'll be cool to be sure not to have him as a client, you know?"

She chuckled, getting out her phone as searching through it. "Good luck with that. His head is currently worth a damn lot, so I doubt he'd dare to stay in the States. Even if his contract is worldwide, no one is dumb enough to walk the streets of New York with that high a price and no access to the Continental. Here! That's a good one."

The phone was shoved in her hands and a younger John stared back at her. A russian flag was in the back of the group and he was shaking hands with an older man. 

"Who's that?" 

"Wick's the one on the right."

Of course. Tina wouldn't have expected her to know the Boogeyman's face already. "Who's he shaking hands with?"

"A Russian mob. The name was Viggo. John killed him."

"Really?"

"Yeah, they worked together before he retired. Viggo's son was dumb enough to steal Wick's car and kill his dog a few days after he lost his wife. The poor fucker had to life the haunted life for the two days it lasted before he died. His father followed the same fate the same day." Tina chuckled, obvious to the shaky hands of the woman in front of her. "And gosh, I wouldn't even start on Rome." 

"He... had a wife?"

"Yeah, he retired for her. Five years. For five years everything seemed calm. Sure, we were still all working, but the Boogeyman is something else. We thought we were safe, but they got him back in. It's been a week since we stopped hearing about sudden deaths around the city, but since no one claimed the price, we all think he's hiding under our beds."

_Or in your bed_

"Sounds like a scary guy." She gave back the phone, making a note in her head to have a talk with the Boogeyman as soon as she got home.

 

And all hell broke loose. It only took one woman to scream "Wick's outside!" To make almost everyone rush out, weapons drawn. Tina and a handful of others didn't even blink, stirring their drinks.

"What-"

"They're all going to die." Tina sighed. "A pity, really. I had a few friends there."

"I- I'm a doctor-"

"Oh, honey." Tina finished her glass and stood up. "No one comes out alive from the Boogeyman."

As soon as Tina moved back to the bar, she grabbed her phone and purse and rushed out. One name being repeated over and over again in her head.

_John._

_Please don't die._

 

She reached a packed lobby, men and women armed to the teeth with an impressive variety of weapons, all trying to reach the best spot first. The elevator was packed so she turned to the stairs which were thundering with boots and shoes rushing down to the door. When she reached the bottom, she felt her phone ring in her pocket and took it out to see a text.

-Someone saw me, I have to go. Thank you again for everything, your apartment will be ready in a week, I hope you will like it. Goodbye.-

She shook her head, pushing it back in her pocket and rushed outside, there was bodies around, corpses. Blood and screams from fleeing citizens. Sirens from police cars rushing to the scene.

She looked around, vision blurry from tears she didn't know she had. 

A shot hit next to her.

A warning.

She understood why he had to leave. She understood why it was better with him gone. But she didn't want to anymore. In just a week she had come to care. To be used to him wandering her apartment and checking if she was alright. She had planned for him to stay longer even if he had already warned her about leaving.

She grabbed her phone.

 

- _I don't want you to leave._ -

 

He never answered.

 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I go again, forgetting to post it on Friday as planned... As soon as Chapter 7 is done being Beta-ed, I'll do the thing that automatically publish it on next Friday, like that I won't forget!
> 
> This chapter brings me joy and some angst, I feel like my writing is more and more all over the place, but if you're all still into it, why not!
> 
> Chapter 7 is the longest so far, so I hope it'll be a great gift after this wonkiness!
> 
> Thank you so much again for Kudos and Comments, I can't wait to show you guys more!


	7. Don't come in

The following week passed like a dream. A very long and restless one.  She had to give kudos to the workers as they had finished the work of her office by Monday so she could start working, and their professional planning made sure all renovations would be over by the following week. She had a hard time understanding how having two bedrooms and so much space was worth anything now. Maybe she should get a roommate, a new one. She couldn't take any civilians with her current line of work and assassins didn't make the safest either.  She felt like a metronome for all five days.

 

Wake up.

Go to the Café.

Work.

Eat the leftovers or mistakes in the kitchen.

Work.

Close shop.

Home.

Two clients.

Sleep.

Rinse.

Repeat.

 

No news from anyone about the Boogeyman's demeanor. Her friends, civilian friends, were supposed to come by during the weekend, but she ended up taking a rain-check until her birthday to keep an eye on the last few details of the appartment. They had made her, or was it for John, a hidden door leading to a perfect hidden space. She didn't know if it was to hide herself or weapons, but the locks inside suggested at least the first one.

 

~***~

 

Maybe she felt so alone because the one thing that had lead her to that new life left her before she could see the surface. Now she was paddling to reach it alone, afraid to drown before she could find air. A weight settled in her throat as she looked at her phone, her last message still bright on her screen.

- _I don't want you to leave.-_

No answer. Like every other night since the party. She should have went alone. Tina and Winston would have kept her safe. Charon could have helped her get a taxi back home. Everything but what had happened. Everything but crying into Tina's shoulder as shots rang from outside, the assassin believing she had just been scared of the sheer number of corpses and the Boogeyman sniping anyone that passed the threshold. People had patted her shoulder, saying she had been incredibly lucky that the shots had missed.

She knew they hadn't.

Now she was sipping her bottle of Scotch. The one she had opened what seemed like so long ago to treat a bloody man. She sighed and put the glass down. It was her birthday next Sunday. Thirty-four. Gosh did she feel old compared to the intense life she lived these last weeks... Saying that 30 was a point of no-return and definitive adulthood was a lie. She didn't feel different from 22, except her back hurt when she worked too-long shifts now.  The clock said two am, her last shift at the Café was already over and Winston had called to let her know she had the weekends off. She didn't want to, but said yes. What would she even do except wallow in stupid self-pity over a roommate she had for barely a week. She had enough money and free time to get a dog, at least that would let her go outside between clients.

_"You're known now, people are looking for you."_

She had Tina on speed dial.  Sometimes, she called home, waited for the two rings. She always hung up right before the third. John had been wrong about the tan lady assassin. Well, about new Tina. She had changed in seven years as anyone should. She wasn't dumb enough to stab the devil in the back anymore and seemed to actually care for her doctor.  There hadn't been any trace of Larry in a while, but she was sure Tina would have said a word if something had happened to him.  Leaves were falling outside.

She should really get a dog.

 

~***~

 

The dog was named Ro. He was her birthday gift to herself. He was a good dog, a mix of german shepherd and border collie that had apparently been sitting at the animal shelter for a month or two. He had gotten too big for his old owners. By the time the renovations were done and each workers had received their two gold coins as tips, Ro was comfortable, sleeping on her bed, and had the good habit of whining instead of barking when someone was at her door. When she had asked the landlord about having pets, he just had agreed immediately, all smile. Probably because 'she' paid for all the work. Now that it was big, it seemed empty and she felt small.

The following week felt better already. She went for coffee with Tina every Wednesday at the Café so she could greet Dave, Ginny and the gang. On Friday was movie night with Ro, as he loved to lay his head on her laps as she folded laundry watching the TV.  Her friends came up on the birthday weekend, cooing over the dog and marvelling at her new place.

"That must have costed so much! Are you doing ok?"

"Yes, my new job's pay and my economies managed it."

"I can't believe it!"

She smiled. It was hard to hide the full truth from them, but in a way, she had to. They all ended up in front of the TV, watching a cheap romance movie and sending critics left and right about the characters that were obviously in love but also very blind about it.

Theodore, nicknamed Ted or Roosevelt, the tallest of the gang, made sure to throw the most inside jokes as possible, probably sensing her loneliness. He watched the movies with one arm around her and one around his boyfriend,  Dae-hyun that was the real cook of the group. Refusing cheap chips or candies, he had stepped into the house with a box of cookies and other homemade snacks. The one Ted hadn't eaten yet at least... Anna, a short sweetheart that was already snoring, usually in bed by that hour, had cuddled Ro for the whole evening. The dog obviously liked her, she could be his safe heaven if she had to leave one day.  Jamie , the oldest of the group, brought the gifts from everyone, apparently stashed at their place for days, shoving their's up front to open first. The presents were put in the bedroom for the next day and the birthday blanket was spread over almost all of them during the movie. And of course, there was  Laura , the all-knowing movie addict. The idea of a movie night came from she and so did the dozens of DVDs lying around post-choice.

They stayed for the night, two on the unfolded couch, two in the brand new 'guest room', and one that passed out in a pile of blankets. For the host, she fell asleep, hugging Ro that let out contented noises.

 

~***~

 

The dog suddenly getting up jolted her awake. She blinked in the dim light coming from her door as Ro whined softly.  Winston had promised no clients and she hadn't received any call. Maybe it was Tina? Just to be sure, she grabbed the knife she hid in her bedside table and tiptoed to her door. A hand slammed on her mouth and her eyes went wide. The figure was too big to be Tina, too wide. Her slashing was stopped short by a second hand.

"Quiet. Please."

She fought hard not to let out an offended cry. She stepped back so he could come in, followed by a very curious Ro. The door was closed behind and she turned on the light.

"John, what the-"

There was red on his shirt.

"Oh my god are you okay?!"

He put a finger to his lips and grabbed one of Charlie's sheet to spread it on the bed as well as he could, taking his weapons off of him.

"What do you think you're doing?" She whispered, upset.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come back."

"No, you shouldn't have left."

He nodded.

"What's all the blood?"

"Most isn't mine."

"John. I have friends over, I can't get my gear, even less treat you here."

"Don't worry, I patched myself up. I'm not bleeding out."

She didn't know how to answer or how to feel. She had been alone for two weeks. Only one and a half if you added Ro to the equation. A long time to get over his stunt and start having a normal life, as much as a doctor for assassins could.

"What do you plan to do here?"

 

"Stay the night."

_Check on you._

 

He wouldn't say it. Wouldn't say he had been worried sick about that random woman he had pulled into the underworld before leaving her to herself in the middle of the wolves. How he had wondered if they had gotten to her. The Sanders or the creep she had spoken about. He had seen Tina come by a few times. At least she seemed to really care for her doctor. But now that he was there, in front of her again, he had no idea how to act. It wasn't like he could just stay as if everything was ok after what he had done. She had a dog now, whatever his name was, he seemed like he did good to her. A flash of Daisy came to mind.  _Someone to love because the car doesn't count._ Maybe, just maybe, she had gotten that dog to fill a space like he had done himself.

"It's... what am I going to do with you?"

He looked up at her as she passed a hand on her face, a tiny smile on her lips.

"What?"

"Let me check these just in case."

He let her.

He let her pull off his vest and shirt, judge the homemade stitches and put a bandaid or two on his face. She was gentle as always, mind lost in her work and obvious to the rest of the world. Peaceful almost. She dropped his ruined clothes in a bag not to put blood everywhere and turned to him. "Take off your shoes, socks and pants, I'm not letting you put bloodstains on my bed."

"I can take the couch-"

"John, there is nowhere else available, do as I say and go to sleep. We have to talk tomorrow."

On that, she moved to the other side of the bed, jumped in it and pulled the blankets to her chin. The dog jumped eagerly and nested himself against her back, right between her and John.  The man did as she asked, careful not to pull on his stitches and put his pants in the bloodied clothes bag, rolling the safety sheet away before sliding into bed. It felt odd to be there again. Safe, but odd. He could hear the clock ticking from the living room, her soft breathing beside him coupled with the dog's, someone snoring in another room. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

What irony it was that she was the one keeping him safe.

 

~***~

 

She couldn't sleep. The moment her head had touched the pillow, she had suddenly realized what she had asked him to do. Of course Ro had saved her from everything possibly turning even worse, but she tensed up the moment the mattress dipped, and now she was still as rigid as half an hour ago. Memories of patching him up that one night, passing out and being awaken in an embarrassing situation came to mind. Well, this time, it would be worse with one of her friend finding her cuddling a wanted assassin they had never seen before.

Maybe Ro would be a good dog and stay between them all night. Yes, that could work.  Exhaustion took her before she could give it more thought.

 

~***~

 

At 7am, she awoke and had to take a full five minutes to finally remember the past night events. Ro, seeing her awake, jumped off the bed and scratched at the door. Right. She had closed that. She slipped off the bed, making sure the man that was laying back to her didn't loose any warmth, she put on her slippers and a sweater over her PJs and opened the door, closing it behind her. Most of her friend were still snoring, but she could hear footsteps. A few seconds later, Anna passed the corner, awake with the sun, as always.

"Hey, still on work schedule?"

"The Café ruined me and you know it."

"I can relate. Happy birthday."

"Thanks, I'm old."

"I'm thirty-seven. Shush."

This felt nice, normal, safe. If only she hadn't noticed the bloody handprint on the wall, just out of her friend's view.

"Yeah, well... Want some coffee or Tea?"

"Sure, coffee would be great."

"Cool."

She waited for the short woman to pass her before placing herself in front of the print. Fuck, there was blood on the floor too. She made her way to the kitchen, starting the coffee machine and pouring some water over a rag, that would have to do. She rushed to the print and rubbed furiously. Luckily, it went away fast enough. Next step was the floor.  She was halfway done when Anna came back in day clothes and sporting a flowery Hijab.

"Hey... Did you get a nosebleed last night?"

Fuck. "Yeah, sorry about the mess."

"Hey, it's your place. It also explains who I heard last night, for a second I thought it was a bulgar." She laughed.

The doc joined awkwardly. "Yeah. Life."

"You need help with breakfast?"

"I wouldn't say no to that, not that they will get up before 10."

"It's ok, we'll just eat everything."

 

Exchanging some jokes lightened her mood. Anyway, she was used to taking Ro on a walk each morning, she'd probably have to warn John first and take her awake friend with her. She decided to change before cooking, better be out her room for as long as possible. John was facing the dresser, so she took what she needed and walked around the bed to change, keeping her eye on him. He didn't turn, still asleep. If something went wrong, he would call. Next step was breakfast and by that point Ro was getting nervous to get outside. They finished up the dough and preparations, left the bread to raise with a note and stepped outside.

Trees were colourful in the city, the leaves falling and only awaiting someone with good music to turn the world into a videoclip. Ro let out delighted sounds as he chased leaves and squirrels, staying close by even without a leash. Both women talked, enjoying the weather and the sunlight, catching up from the month they missed. Of course they had talked since, but texts and phone weren't the same. The doctor had gained a few tricks from her time on the job, no matter how short. And that's how she noticed Winston, casually throwing seeds at pigeons from a lone bench.

"Can you play with Ro for a minute? I just spotted a friend, just need to say hi."

"Play with a good boy like him? Anytime!"

Anna apparently didn't need to be asked twice and ran to the dog, grabbing a stick on the way. Nodding, the doctor walked to Winston, hands in her pockets.

 

"Hello Winston."

"How do you do, please take a seat."

She did as he asked, smiling when the birds came back with vengeance when she didn't appear as a threat. "I'm nice. How about you?"

"The Hotel is fine, we got news of a butcher in Austria, so most of our clients are there these times."

"Sounds like quite a party."

"I told you it's up to twenty now."

Twenty millions on someone's head was heavy. Heavier when half the world wanted a piece of it.

"Yes... I still don't see the point when you know how it ends."

"Understandable. As I like to say, the odds are even. Is anyone bothering you?"

"No one for a week at least. I had Ivan's crew that had came by to bug my place, but this time they all apologized. It was cute."

"We don't see that often in the work."

She hesitated to tell him about John. Winston was his friend after all, but he deserved to learn from the man himself. "Guess I'm getting known around."

"You have no idea!" He laughed warmly, tossing another handful to the delighted birds. "People are asking for a premium list of the ones that could go to you at any time."

"I don't really have a waiting space..."

"You're a favourite. Many like the idea of a good doctor that stuck it to the Sanders. Quite a fan club you made for yourself."

"I've been in for three weeks..."

"And times have been boring."

"I thought there was the whole man hunt thing... It doesn't sound boring to me."

"It is after a few days. People are fools to think they can put him down just because he is on the run. Last I heard, it was India. I have no idea how he even travels anymore."

 

The pigeons cooed at him for food and he answered their demands with a smile.

"Sounds like an intense life regime. Travelling the world."

"Deep down, he just wants time to grieve."

"I heard."

They sat in science for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company until Ro ran in to give chase to the birds.

"That's my Q. It was nice seeing you, Winston."

"Always a pleasure talking to you, miss. I wish you a wonderful birthday."

"Thank you. Ro. Foot."

The dog ran to his mistress, tail wagging with force, and followed her back to her friend, unaware of the passerby quietly shot and pulled away. The Sanders name delicately printed on the cards in his coat pocket slowly getting drenched with his own blood.  Winston took a deep breath and stood up, nodding to what seemed like a normal passerby before walking back to the car waiting for him, whistling all the way. His work here was done. She would be safe for now. Maybe he should talk to Tina about that bodyguard job. The Sanders were doing more and more tricks these last few days.

 

~***~

 

"How did it go?"

"What?"

"Your secret meeting with that grandfather in the park?"

"Oh! Good. It went good."

Anna chuckled. "Yeah. How did you even made friends with an old man? Helped him cross the street? I know you, you would have given a lift to anyone that had asked."

"I met him while I was shopping. He showed me the way to the kitchen rags. Nothing really surprising."

"And yet you go talk to him in the park."

"You say hi to your neighbour every day, don't give me that face."

"Fine, find. It's nice, you're nice. But have you tried making friends your age for once?"

"I got you guys."

"We all leave at least a state away, not mentioning the Korea and German jobs of some."

"Touché, but I made one friend, we go to the Café every week."

"That's a good start! Look at you go!"

"Oh shush!"

"By the way, what's on the other side of your flat? The locked door?"

"I told you before, some tenant needed some more space. Seeing that that part was empty, the landlord gave it to them. Since it took full-on renovations, he let me make my place bigger. Also I can afford it now."

"Yeah, yeah. Just because there's a lot of shady guys at the stairs."

Her head snapped toward the second set of stairs, spotting the well-dressed men scanning around, one knocking at the door. Wrong knock.

Shit.

"Let's get in by the front door. I need to give rent anyway."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Walking faster, she dialled the house phone.

One ring and Ted picked up, voice still a bit deep from sleep. "Sorry, but the one you're asking for is not there now, can I-"

"Ted. It's me. If someone knock at the door, whichever it is, don't open."

"What? Where are you? Is there a problem?"

"Just promise me."

"Yeah, sure, ok."

"Good."

Ro started to growl as they reached the front door and she scanned the street. Two cars, grey, but way too clean and expensive for the neighborhood. She heard the vehicle doors open as she unlocked the front door and pulled Anna in, closing it behind Ro.

 

"What's the rush?"

"Bad things."

"What did you get into, girl?"

"Bad-"

"She's here!" Exclaimed a voice from the second floor. 

"Fuck!" She put her phone to her ear again, cursing Ted for hanging up, and called again.

"Hello, this is-"

"Ted! Ted you fucking listen to me!"

"Holy fuck. Are you o-"

"Go to my room and knock on the door four time, say I'm in danger and I really need help!"

"What-"

"For the love of Gods, do it!"

"Alright!"

She rushed to the lower levels, Anna following her in panic. She could hear her other friends' voices on the other line, different levels of panic, then the knocks, Ted saying what she asked, silence... She slammed the boiler room door open and closed it behind Ro, pulling Anne again to a hiding spot. They needed time. She heard Ted muffled curse, a brief exchange...

 

"Where are you?"

She let out an involuntary sigh of relief, some of the stress leaving her shoulders. "Boiler room. I'm hiding with my friend, but there was two cars outside, three men at the balcony and two at the front door. I don't know what to do, I-"

"I'm coming."

Anne let out a scream as the first shot echoed, but quickly covered her mouth, her wild eyes begging her friend for an explanation.

"I'm sorry, we have to lay low." She whispered, trying to make it better before John could get to them. Why did it have to be Anna with her with active shooters around...

The door of the room opened violently, three sets of foot rushing in. Obviously not who they were waiting for. She curled on her friend, holding back Ro so he wouldn't get a stupid dog idea and make a noise. Shots were getting closer.

"Fuck!" Said a first man. "Find the bitch! We have to get out now!"

She could hear them coming closer, and her knife was in her hand. A silhouette stopped in front of their hiding place, a bald man with a neatly trimmed beard. He smiled at her, raising his finger to his ear.

"I got her boss, she's barely armed, you'll have her in-"

The shot sounded deafening in echo of the boiler room and Anna ket out a second scream as she watched the man drop. Clean headshot. Holding her knife tighter, she dared look around the corner at the fighting sounds coming from the doorway. A man fell, followed by a second. Both shot in a blink before the gun was aimed at her. Then down.

John rushed to her, limping a bit. "Are you okay?"

She could only nod, eyes staring at the bloody stain on his shirt and heart beating too fast. His sweatpants were as dirty, but she could tell it wasn't from his wounds. At least most of it wasn't.

"There is the cars to deal with. You need to get upstairs."

"John, you're bleeding!" She finally exclaimed as he helped her up. "You need new stitches and-"

New footsteps, new voices. "She's-"

John turned and shot twice, the first man in a suit went down, the second bullet hitting the leg of a woman in the same getup. As she bent in pain, he shot her in the head. She fell down and joined the corpses of her coworkers.

"I'm serious. You need to get upstairs before your friends call the police."

 

She nodded again, helping Anna up, and followed John's pace upstairs. The three of them and Ro rushed in, closing the door behind. As John moved to a window, Anna fell on her knees and puked the full content of her stomach on the floor. Everyone was awake by now, two rushing to the poor woman who was now coughing between sobs, two toward the doctor.

"Shit the fuck was that? Who is he? A cop?"

"I can't tell you right now, please, we have to get somewhere more covered."

"That's crazy, what the fuck is happening?"

"People are trying to kidnap me, that's what!"

 

A silence fell in the room, only broken by Anna's soft sobbing.

"For some reason, a mob boss wants my head." She said, more calmly. Remembering Tina's cover story idea. "This man is undercover, he's basically my bodyguard until the mob boss is put behind bars. I'm not supposed to tell you all this, but at that point, I don't think you would do rational things without knowing it."

She could feel all the stares on her, but soon a hand was pressed on her shoulder and she felt a breath on her cheek. A whisper in a ear.

"The cars are gone. You should call Tina."

 

She nodded, taking a deep breath. "I need to make a call... and we need breakfast. Also don't call the police, he already called who was needed."

She walked to her room, closing her door behind. She was shaking horribly when she called Charlie, even more for Tina.

"You said who now?"

"Sanders. A bunch. I was armed so I got lucky."

"I'll be there in a couple of minutes. Don't hesitate to shoot if more comes."

"Thank you."

"Stay safe, doc."

"I will."

She could hear police cars pulling up in the street so she hang up, walked to the door, and searched for John. He was holding his side, she could see blood seeping from his fingers. His full attention was directed outside, scanning for a way out. A way to leave.

 

She sent a silent hand gesture at her friends so they wouldn't ask question and walked to the man. Stopping a few steps away. "John." Fuck her voice was way too shaky. She tried again. "John. It's okay."

"It's not." He answered, still glaring out the window. "There is police cars coming up and-"

"I'm talking about you."

He finally looked at her, puzzled. "Me?"

A heavy weight was growing in her throat. "It's okay. You can leave. Tina is on her way to fix it." A pause. "I won't stop you."

He frowned, unsure, sending a last glance out the window. "I don't understand..."

"Police is coming. I know you want to leave again... I... I'll be okay, John. Just leave." Goddamn her eyes that seemed to think tearing up was a great idea. She wiped them with the edge of her sleeve, just noticing she was still wearing her coat. "Sorry, I shouldn't have gotten attached..."

His clean hand was on her shoulder, his face in front of her. "Hey, hey, hey. I'm not planning to leave. Not until you ask me to. Please don't cry. I'm sorry. You've been through a lot because of me." He sounded awkward, out of practice.

"I'm not crying." She managed to say, hands covering her face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He patted her head awkwardly and straightened up. "You all. Listen. I cannot be seen by the police. She does the talking."

On that simple note, he walked to his bedroom and closed the door behind.

 

Her friends were now staring at her as she wiped her tears away. "It's fine guys. We'll be okay. We'll all be-"

And Tina kicked the door open, stepping in with her gun blazing.

"Police! Everyone hands on your head!"

Oh boy.

 

 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally on time!  
> But my Beta reader couldn't beta this one on time, I'll update it after the correction, but it is readable, haha!
> 
> Thank you so much to all of you for your comments and Kudos! This chapter hyped me up just by writing it, I hope you will feel the same!


	8. A day of many gifts

It took a few minutes to calm Tina down and assure her the five people were all friends and not anyone holding her at gunpoint. In five seconds she also called off the rest of the police force. As she explained, she pulled some strings. It also helped that she had been planning the not-so-surprise birthday party close by. It felt weird how much the underworld had branches everywhere, at least enough to let that many corpses leave a building without any question asked. Charlie passed by to get the coins and kiss her on the cheek with a smile. "I like them efficient." He had said before walking down the stairs.

They finally made breakfast: waffles, crêpes, eggs, bacon, and fresh bread. The smell almost making them all of them forget about the events from a few minutes before. She went to get a change of clothes as an excuse to bring food to John, laying down on his bed. He thanked her quietly before she went back out. Then the gifts were opened, no matter how heavy the air was. Anna was still shaking, trying to look unbothered and failing miserably. Despite the heavy weight on all of their shoulders, laughter and cheers still filled the house when the cake was revealed and the candles blown. A single moment of normality in a dark day. Tina was sitting on a chair, a little bit farther from the group, holding a champagne glass with a smile.  An hour later, they were all making their bags again, getting ready to go back to their own places. There was an awkward look shared between [Non-Binary] and the host when they went to John's room to get the bags still inside. With a nod of approval from her, they went in and closed the door. She did her best to look as casual as she could until they came out again, holding both their and Anna's bag. All of them seemed a bit tense, but Tina would probably put it on the previous shooting. When they were all in their coats, bags and suitcases fastened and ready, she hugged them one by one, telling them she was safe and would keep in touch. She asked Tina to walk them to their cars to ease their mind a bit, promising she would lock the door and open it for no one but her.

Once alone with the dog, she walked to his room, knocking four times before going in. He was sitting on his bed and stood as she closed the door behind her. 

"It's okay." He simply said, and she broke.

With all the grace of a toddler's first step, she started sobbing loudly. John awkwardly took her in his arms to pat her hair in what he hopped was reassuring way. It was her birthday apparently. On her birthday, men came to kill her or at least abduct her in a violent way. On the single day she was supposed to be normal and be with friends. The Sanders were not going to like this.  _He_  sure as hell  _didn't_. Granted she was part of the world now, but in some ways, she wasn't. She hadn't killed anyone and she helped instead of hurting which not many shared with her in the job, doctors included. He held her for as long as she needed him too... Or at least until her special knock resonated from her front door. He squeezed her one last time and took a step back so she could get to the door and Tina. When the door closed behind her form, he sat down and passed a hand on his face, pictures of Helen coming to mind. She had once broken down like this after one of her aunt had passed away suddenly. He had brought her to the beach they loved so much and held her for a long time. A month ago. A month ago she was still by his side, smiling gently from her hospital bed, unaware that when she would go to sleep, she would not wake up. To think it had taken him so little time to break again. A single month and he was back, older, but as deadly as before. Ripped from his own heaven he had stayed in for five short years. He didn't know if he would laugh again the way he did with her. Probably not. Damnation loomed over him, maybe it took his wife as a revenge like Viggo had said.

He looked at his hand, his ring, their rings. He hadn't invited anyone to his wedding, only her and her family. Marcus had come as well as Winston, both staying in the back. Two he couldn't have stopped from coming anyway. One of them he lost so little days after Helen. People could say it came with the job because it did, but days like this, he couldn't help but wonder if it came with him. With his own foolishness and the number of lives he took. Some crooked entity wanted to even the field.

And there he was. Getting attached again. Making a friend out of a woman that just had too much heart for that cold world of his.

 

_The car doesn't count._

 

_Does she?_

~***~

Tina ended up staying for two more hours, holding her in her arms and passing a gentle hand in her hair for time to time. She sobbed in her shoulder for most of it, the shock leaving her system in the form of salted droplets sliding down her cheeks. The disgusting amount of mucus involved was unimportant. She just needed to buy kleenexes in her next groceries. Tina left, eyes hard, telling her she would come to get her to go to the party in the evening. Her gun was left on the counter. Ready. The doctor turned her back to it, moving back to the second bedroom to knock four times. The door opened and she could feel the man's eyes checking on her red puffy eyes and tussled hair. She heard him sigh before he moved out to the bathroom. Ro, awake again, made a clicking sound with his claws as he rushed to her side, whining softly. She crouched down and hugged him, his tail wagging joyfully. A very good dog indeed.

~***~

"I have to go deal with something."

She looked at him from her spot on the couch. "What?"

"I'll get back tomorrow."

She stood up, jolting Rhododendron was was napping on her laps. "You can't your stitches- you're limping!" 

"It won't be long."

He was dressed in clothes she hadn't saw before. Maybe he had them brought with the renovation since she hadn't really checked his room. He had a black turtleneck long-sleeved shirt and was putting on a black jacket to match. His pants and shoes were of the same colour as the rest. She could see a gun at his hip.

"Funeral?" 

He looked up questioningly, adjusting his sleeves.

"You're dressed in all-black."

"In a way it is."

Oh... so... Job... Stupid question.

"Is it safe for you to take one of these while you got that much of a price on your head? And did I mention stitches? I think I did."

"I'll be quick."

"You know that's not the problem."

"I'll be back. I promise."

"If you don't come back, I'll kill you myself." 

He nodded, shoving another gun by his belt and a third, way bigger one, in a case. She felt a heavy weight in her stomach. As she was watching a loved one leaving to go to war. Guess he was in a way, going to war. His own. When he walked to the door, checking outside, she grabbed his hand and he turned. Waiting.

"Please come back, ok?"

He nodded yet again and disappeared down the stairs. She heard a siren in the distance and closed the door. Who was he going after this time anyway? To change her mind, she went to take a shower and choosing her dress for her second birthday party of the day. She found a note on her bed.

_"Happy birthday, sorry about everything. See you soon._

_⁃_ _John."_

 

If it was from anyone else it would have felt lame, rushed. She grabbed the note and placed it in her bedside table with care. At 5, she was ready to go and Tina was at her door. The dress had hidden pockets hiding her trusty knife, but also the gun John refused to take back. With her day so far, she preferred to be safe.

The party was nice and looked too expensive, but Tina's excitement was contagious. Most, if not all, the people present were clients she had, all smiling and patting her back in congratulation for her birthday and taking out one of Sanders best team. When the assassin family was mentioned, she answered with "I'll deal with them next time they try something." Since it made everyone laugh some more and she felt the weight of it leave her shoulders bits by bits. It was more awkward than with her friends of course, she knew the name of five or six people of the lot and didn't really understand what to do with the various gifts that were put in her hands. They ended up on a pile on a table to the side, and she could swear it got bigger and bigger by the minute.

Winston came by, surprising some people since he almost never left the walls of the Hotel. He didn't stay long, gave her a gift bag, a kiss on the cheek, congratulations and left. She felt better already. Tina brought her back with the presents. A job called her, so she left after making sure no one would get in without at least four assassins rushing to her help. The pile of gifts was impressive so she started to open them right away. The first gun put her off, but after five, she just went on. Very few gifts were really thoughtful, Tina's, Winston's, Charon's and surprisingly Ivan's crew were just what she needed. The rest were weapons or medical supplies. Useful, but nothing special. Tina had gotten her a knife, more balanced, engraved with her initials. Charon got her a tea set with a bag of Mint Tea, obviously great quality. Winston got her a notebook and a fountain pen that probably costed five times her current pay check. Ivan's men got her cleaning supplies and various items for Rhododendron.

The hidden hideout was then finally inhabited by her array of various guns, mostly pistols. A few clothes were also hung there, she guessed they were important in some way. She went to bed after bolting her door. Better safe than sorry.

 

She treated three people the following day, leaving her a five hour break where she went out for groceries and a walk with Ro. She passed next to a building when she heard yells and gunfire. She kept going at a faster pace, ignoring as well as she could the crescendo of violence. Someone passed through a window and fell on the concrete with a dull sound. She didn't look back and kept going, jogging away by that point. Ro suddenly stopped following her and going back as she cursed for not using a leach. Ro was rushing to the main door as a sea of people ran out in panic. Her exclamations fell to deaf ears of course, and she adjusted her backpack, glad eggs weren't on her groceries list this time, and followed the dog. There was even more yelling inside as she made her way through the swarm of panicked people. It looked like a hidden club from the neon lights and the pulsing of a deep base coming from the lower levels. She ignored the topless women and men rushing past her to get out as fast as possible and cursed when Ro's tail disappeared behind a far door. At least she wouldn't have to go downstairs.

"Come back you stupid dog!" She said, more to herself than anyone with the sheer volume of the screams and gunshots. At least the violence seemed to be in the upper levels. She passed a man frantically talking into his ear device, and he paused when she ran by. After a few seconds, she heard his deep voice call into his microphone again.

"The woman is inside! The woman is inside! First level, going East!"

Her heartbeat quickened when she finally reached the door and closed it behind her. No locks. Shit!

 

"What are you doing here?"

She turned to John, leaning heavily against a flipped table and holding his side, Ro joyfully licking his face. Well the man didn't seem as happy about that last part. He looked rugged, but breathing. Good sign, right?

"Ro rushed in, I just-"

The door opened behind her and a shot rang. The man dropped, the barrel of John's pistol still smoking.

"You need to get out. Now."

"I figured."

She walked to him, clipping Ro's leach to his collar, trying to ignore the state of the man at her feet. Once that was done, she hesitated before getting her pistol from her back and giving it to him. 

"You might need it more than I do." 

"You keep it."

"I can't aim. Take the fucking gun." 

He took it after they glared at each other for a few minutes. "Fine. But I want you out. I'm almost done." 

"Sure, I got to rush back anyway. Shall I expect you for supper?" 

Another man appeared at the door and was shot in the following second.

"Yeah, I should be done by now." A pause, another kill... she was getting way too used to that. "What's for supper?"

"I was planning on pasta. What do you think?"

"Sounds good."

Ok, this probably wasn't the best moment for this conversation, but she wasn't really feeling good about leaving when the whole building was probably putting her as the main objective. Also, it seemed safe if they kept coming one by one and stopping in the doorframe.

"Go."

His voice was hard. Ok. He was mad now. She grabbed Ro's leach tighter, took a huge breath and looked straight into her friend's eyes.

"Don't you die. I don't want the pastas to cool down."

 

He smirked. Or maybe it was trick of the light. Either way, she took off as fast as she could, praying nothing had broke or opened into her backpack. No one seemed to dare get close or harm her, and once she mixed with the last fleeing souls, it was easy to get lost in the crowd. She saw one of Ivan's man and gave him an awkward smile without stopping. 

Well, here was that.

John was there for supper. She did need to clean and stitch him up again, but it was worth the pain. He was back. At last.

~***~ 

Apparently her gifts were way more expensive than she first thought.

John went through her new guns, well, if you asked her, they were all his since she never ever wanted to shoot anyone. He opened, cleaned, tested, aimed... all but shot with each and every one of them with the careful precision of someone who did it an infinite number of times. He even did his own little order from best to worse, assuring her the worse of them was far from being a bad gun. He did the same with her knifes, complimenting the one she kept on her, Tina's gift. When he opened her clothing bags, someone knocked at the front door. Good knock. She closed the door on him and went to answer, knife in hand. It was Tina with a disappointing expression. 

"Can I come in?"

"S-Sure, yeah."

The assassin made her way to her favourite spot on the couch and sat down, crossing her arms. The doctor followed suit, a little awkwardly.

"What can I do fo-"

"Cut the bullshit. Why the hell did you do it?"

"What?"

"Cleaned the Sanders."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. What did she even mean 'Cleaned the Sanders'?

"I'm not sure what you're talking ab-" 

"That was my job and you took it." Said the woman seriously.... before her face split into a huge grin. "Well, I should be pissed, but gosh you never fail to surprise me! Here I was, driving to their HQ, and I see a shitload of people fleeing from it. I rushed in and saw your work and I must say, you are really efficient. Clean, deadly, I have no idea how you do it. For a moment, I thought the Boogeyman had passed there, but when I got out one of Ivan's goon stopped me to tell me you had just fled with your dog and I couldn't believe it.. But then I checked the recordings I managed to salvage from your birthday and then today? Here, I got them both right there." She fished into her coat pocket and get out her phone, rising the volume after finding what she needed.

A deep voice came out of the device. A familiar one. " _I got her boss, she's barely armed, you'll have her in-_ " A bang followed, then silence. So it was the man from her birthday... that John shot. What a wonderful memory. A second one, again familiar from the day itself. " _The woman is inside! The woman is inside! First level, going East!_ ". 

 

Tina stopped her phone and looked at her friend with a radiant smile. "And to think I believed you were a peace-maker kind of gal. Guess people should stop attacking you soon. Especially if they have no valid reason to."

"Um... yeah..."

She couldn't find the strength to tell the truth. To walk to the hidden hideout and open the door to the Boogeyman. It might be a bad idea.

"I don't like being forced places... kidnapping and all... and they tried when my friends were there."

"Well, good news is no more goons or attack without reasons. Bad news is that if they want you, you'll have the good ones after your ass." Seeing her friend turn pale, Tina laughed. "Don't worry! I'm here for you, and the dangerous ones ends up getting talked to instead of shot at. We always prefer to be on their good side. And anyway, what's best than having a doctor that doubles as a killing machine in your team?"

"Not coming to make me choose any side?"

"Touché." Tina laughed, ruffling her friend's hair. "Well, I have to go share your amazing story. Stay safe and try not to murder an entire family next time. It can unbalance things."

"Um... sure. Stay safe out there."

"It's ok, I got the best doctor on my side!"

 

After a few hugs, she finally left. When her car disappeared around the corner, the doctor walked to the hidden door and knocked four times. The door opened on John, unarmed this time... well, if you could count "in front of two dozens of weapons at arm's length without any directly in his hands" as unarmed. He was still holding her clothing bag in his hands. She just sighed and made a vague gesture toward the couch before walking and dropping into it face first. She heard the second couch's cushions when he sat down. Apparently without the bag.

"You're ok?"

She gave him a muffled no.

"Is it because of today?" 

She nodded and he stayed silent. After a few minutes of silence, she turned her head to look at him, not caring about her ruffled hair that were getting worse with the static. "Yeah. People think I murdered a full family... what the hell was that?" 

He seemed unsure, hand rubbing his knee. "It was personal. They were after you."

"You're not my bodyguard."

His eyes met hers and she was taken aback by the honesty in them. "I am. In a way."

"I... guess..." She mentally slapped herself to go back on the main topic. "But killing a whole family?"

"No one was innocent." 

"Tina told me that might do stuff to the balance of things."

"They'll manage. The Sanders won't be after you anymore."

"Yay me." Under his frown, she turned onto her back. "Alright. Thanks. I guess... I'd just rather have friends than ennemis in that profession."

"No one has friends in this profession. Just acquaintances."

"Do you have a friend?"

 

"I did. He died because he took my side."

"Oh... sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

Damn. That was the most words she had gotten out of him since she met him. It was impressive. "Doesn't really matter. I'm sorry for your losses either way."

A pause. "Thank you."

"Just don't die." She hesitated. "Because even if I'm not yours, you're my friend."

Just like that, the conversation ended, John standing up and limping to the kitchen to cook as she had asked him to to "pay her back" so many time ago. A month. Just a month.

It was impressive

~***~ 

She was.... He wasn't sure how to even begin. 

She was something. Something that seemed to have hooked him up and brought him to the surface again. Something he couldn't, for some reason, let go of. Something that was bright and good and that he wanted to selfishly keep for himself. Something to care for.

And she had to befriend Tina Amanita Antonio Vargas out of all people. In a way it was good. Tina was renowned for covers and efficacy. She just wasn't someone he felt comfortable with if he one day had to show himself. Especially since there was no way his roommate would let him kill her. On the flip side, she wouldn't be allowed to end him either which was a small blessing. He had to give it to the newbie, she knew how to get surrounded well. It was obvious to all that Winston was by her side as well as Charon. Tina was openly spending time with her out of her work schedule and Ivan and his men were often heard praising the girl in protective tones. A few others had been whispering about a kind doctor that shouldn't be messed with. He felt... Surprisingly proud. She had hung up pictures in his room. Some pieces of art he didn't know, some pictures of places he's never been to. There was a plant on the windowsill, comfortable and obviously taken care of daily. The walls that he had requested plain white, were actually a warm shade of green now. It felt... it was more of a home than before at least. More at home than his house of glass and bittersweet memories.

And she was his friend.

 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 23h here so I'm still on time!  
> To be honest, I was about to post and got really scared that it was an extremely short chapter! But I just had forgotten to scroll down.
> 
> I'd like to thank Kala, Nephalem67 and Avianeagle for your comments that literally made me rewatch the two John Wick movies to hype me up and write Chapter 9 in one day...
> 
> The power of comments, everyone! But seriously, they mean everything to me, every Kudo boosts me up.


	9. Mister Smith

Exhausted.

That's what she was. Nothing but exhaustion and anxiety in a trench-coat.

Getting the credits for the wiping out of a whole criminal family came with a surprisingly high amount of praise and new clients. She had at least five per day now, at least one of them that should have gone to the hospital with the severity of their wounds or the amount of blood they'd lost.... but for some reason, she had access to blood pockets now. They had stuffed her work fridges with them as well as a weekly check and refill. At least blood loss wasn't that big a problem now, not that it lowered her weekly stress. The return of John had done wonder to her mood. He could do his bookbinding in his new office and walk around the house while she was working on her clients. It also felt better to know Ro wouldn't be alone all day when her clients came back to back, barely giving her time to breath or eat. Their routine went on unbothered for two more weeks. He restored all of her old books while she made at least three grands without even counting the coins. Tina had left for a job in Australia and called every Wednesday to check up on her. On the other hand, she felt like John was really taking his place as her friend and roommate. He was a man of little words, but the ones he said were meaningful.

It's on a Thursday evening that a dark-skinned woman knocked without being wounded. Her clothes were tactical and extremely fashionable, only one arm movement made her vest raise enough to uncover a tiny bit of the handle of a gun.

"I have been sent my Mister Smith." She said, voice soft like honey, while handing over a sealed letter. "He requested your presence to talk business on Saturday, if you would be so kind."

"I don't work on weekends..."

"That is precisely why he invited you for lunch. He expects a call as soon as you'll make your decision. Have a nice evening, Doctor."

The woman turned and left with the same grace John and Tina had. The grace of a tiger about to strike. She closed the door and locked it again, hanging her white coat and getting out of her work space. She knocked four times on the wall as she walked down the corridor to the living room, observing the letter in her hands curiously.

It made her think of Winston's letter from so long ago. The golden accents and the fancy calligraphy was similar.

 

" _Dear doctor,_

_My name is Wagner Smith, you might have heard of me. I would like to meet you this upcoming Saturday to discuss over lunch. I have an offer you couldn't possibly refuse, and strongly wish to share it with you._

_A woman of your kind and talent should not live in such an undeserving space that wastes her skills on such small tricks._

_I hope for news soon,_

_\- Mr. Wagner Smith, manager of Smith & Harris_"

 

She put the letter down on the counter and walked to the kettle to warm up some water. Snow was falling outside and she was begging for some warm tea. Ro ran up to her, asking for cuddles and petting which she joyfully gave. Tina's words about loaded families and their interests in strong individuals that could be an asset to them came to mind. She had mentioned receiving words or having meetings instead of kidnapping or sending a hit squad. Guess it was her time now.

"John?" She called, knocking on his office door. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"

He came out of the bathroom a few seconds later not looking so surprised to see her at the wrong door. "What is it?"

She handed him the fancy letter that he took casually. "Some big guy wants to meet me. Any idea how I should answer?"

John had his business face on. It was intimidating in a way, the roughness of his eyes, the edge to his posture. "You should go and say no." He handed her back the piece of paper. 

"Why?" 

"He wants you to go private. Work for him and his guys only."

"I think he promised a great pay? Something I couldn't possibly refuse apparently."

"No." 

"Do tell." She inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Wagner's side is a heavy one. But working for him means choosing a side and stop being neutral. That means making enemies."

"Oh... I thought I had some from the Sanders family massacre..."

"No one of importance."

She couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. "John. Every single person on this planet has a chance on killing me. I don't know how to fight, I'm scared to shoot anyone, I have a knife that stabbed no one... heck, the most stabbing I did I did on the patient chair to free a lung. At that point, I don't think anyone can be 'not a danger' to me." 

"I can train you."

"Very funny, John."

"I am serious."

She looked up to his eyes, only finding that heart-wrenching sincerity of his in them. "And- And how are you going to do that in two days? I meet him on Saturday."

"We'll start. At least you won't be entirely defenseless."

She groaned before calling Mr. Wagner Smith. This was going to be a pain.

 

~***~

 

"I hate being alive." 

"I asked for five push-ups. You did tree."

"And I am really, really sore."

"Two." 

She groaned and did as he asked with difficulties before dropping down boneless. "End the suffering..."

"It's ok. We just have to stretch now."

With a sigh of relief, she sat up and started copying his movements. The exercise went on for a few minutes before he helped her back to her feet. "Here you go."

"No offences, but I think I won't be a killing machine tomorrow, I'll just walk funny."

"I tried to keep it light."

 

She had to give him credits, except for the push-ups, pull-ups and jumping jacks, he had only showed her small techniques, making her redo them over and over again to give her some kind of muscle memory. Easy situations too, like being grabbed by the hair or being put in a chokehold... Casual moments of the everyday life. He explained her the basics of guns, where was the safety and how to reload them despite her multiple objections.

By Sunday, she walked out of her appartement with three knifes and one pistol hidden on her person, Ro by her side as she stepped into the expensive car waiting for her. John had forced her to put on some of the clothes she had received for her birthday. The pants, shirt and vest were surprisingly comfortable, but somehow heavier than they looked. She had kept her trusty leather boots as breaking in new shoes never was a good plan when going somewhere you might had to run out of.

The car lead her to an expensive-looking estate a little off in the woods, around a quarter of it standing on a lake. She could smell filthy rich coming from every stone of the paved road. A woman in a uniform opened the door for her, helping her out followed by the dog. The doctor had time to spot seven armed bodyguards before the maid that probably wasn't one started to give her a pat-down. She expected it, both from John and Tina's shared knowledge, but even after spotting her gun and two of her three knifes, she made no move to take them aways and stepped back, making a hand gesture towards the ornate entrance of the extravagant estate. Two men opened the door as she walked in, followed closely by the maid. Ro kept by her side, sniffing the unfamiliar environment.

The inside was as expensive-looking as the rest. Crystal chandeliers, lush exotic plants framing the room, grand stairs visible through the sculpted arch. The picture next to the word wealth in the dictionary. Her coat was off her as soon as she finished unbuttoning it, barely managing to snatch her phone from the pocket before a man hung it in a closet that looked bigger than her bedroom. She was escorted up the stairs to a brightly lit room by floor to celling windows letting in the midday sun in. A table was set with four seats prepared with each their own sets of cutlery and porcelain golden-edged plates. There even was a ceramic bowl by one chair for Ro. She missed her own cute and lightly-chipped ones and wondered if the rich even ate in the same plate twice. They had probably bought an antique just so the dog could have one that matched the current aesthetic... 

 

A man was sitting on a couch, facing the window with a glass in his hand of what looked like whiskey. He turned his head and smiled as he spotted her.

"Doctor, it's a pleasure to see you." He stood, placing his glass on the coffee table next to him before straightening up again. "I hope your way there wasn't too troublesome."

It sounded like a question, and from the corner of her eye she saw one of her bodyguards party shake her head. It probably was his way to ask if anyone attacked them on the way there or something. As he extended his hand in invitation, she took it, surprised when be brought it to his lips. Ro let out a slight growl at the action, stepping even closer to her legs. The man did not even give him a glance.

"It is great to finally meet you. You treated my son a few weeks ago and he's never recovered this fast."

"Thanks." She answered, at a loss of how to act. She now knew how to do some jujitsu if someone grabbed her hair, but she was at loss on etiquette. Well, the picture of John sipping a cup of tea with a pile of books on his head and the pinky up did look fake even for imagination standards.

"You're most welcome. But this is just part of why I called you to my house. Please, take a seat." He said, gesturing to the second couch facing the window as he took back his own spot. "Your dog is well trained." His hair were more salt than pepper and exquisitely combed to the side. He wore a three piece suit and shining shoes as she took her seat, wondering if everyone in the profession assumed that murdering someone was better done in a suit. "I guess you expect this, but I want to offer you a job."

Ro laid down by her feet, eyes never loosing the old man. "You know I will refuse, right?"

He smiled. "I know you believe that now. I believe I will change your mind."

 

Another maid gave her a glass of what seemed to be the same thing as he had. She looked at it suspiciously. Drugs could make her complacent enough to sign something... the need for an antidote too.

"Do not make this kind of face." Wagner said, taking the glass from her hand and taking a sip before handing it back. "Poison would be pointless."

"Not if you do not want me to treat someone you want dead." She answered, taking a careful sip of the strong liquor, taking comfort in Ro being as suspicious as her.

"That is a good but useless point. If you get the chance to treat my enemies, that means I did a poor job at killing them."

She would have laughed if she hadn't know he was completely serious. "What is that outstanding proposition to make me change my mind?"

"Straight to the point. I respect that." He placed his glass down and leaned toward her, stopping when Ro barked. She wondered how close he would have gotten without the canine in the way. "I happen to be able to offer you protection." 

She didn't even bat an eye. "I thought you would know I can take care of myself, Mister Smith." _Well, at least someone do take care of me..._ "Anything better?" 

"Of course, money. But that you expected. I also propose travelling, you could choose in which country to go, and that includes teaching you the language, or a translator, clothes, etcetera."

"If I needed a sugar daddy, I think I would have asked."

He laughed, what could only be described as a father laugh. It rang in the whole room, filling it with warmth. "You, I like you. But I have contacts."

 

Her eyes became hard. She could feel it coming.

"I heard you have friends, civilian friends. It would be a shame if-"

"Are you threatening me, mister Smith?" Her voice was cold, jaw clenched. People threatening her made her anxious, but her friends? That made her incredibly angry. Ro even sat up, eyes trained on the man. Wagner obviously wasn't used to being cut mid-sentence and stared. As soon as his mouth opened, she continued. "Have you already forgot what happened to the Sanders family, Mister Smith? Let me refresh your memory. They tried to attack me while my friend you seem to threaten were with me. The attack wasn't even meant to harm anyone. Do you remember where is the family now?"

His eyes had lost all semblance of warmth and the room felt frigid once again. "I heard about the Sanders' fate. I also know that they didn't have half of the power I have."

"And if you want me to have a chance for me to work for you, you'd have to know that if I hear that one of these friends of mine were hurt or abducted, I will not come begging for their lives. I will come to take yours." The empty glass was calmly put down on the table as she stood up with her dog following suit. The bite of her words wouldn't have been as impressive without Ro's growl. "Thank you for the drink. I will sadly have to postpone our lunch. I do not feel so inclined to stay in your company. Know that I will treat you and your men as long as you keep away from any of my, how do you say? Civilians friend. If you would excuse me, I will call myself a cab."

 

She grabbed her phone and called the house first. If something happened, John needed to know. But when she heard her recorded voice she frowned. He was supposed to be home. Had something happened? She hang up and looked through her contacts. The phone rang in her hands, unknown number. She took it.

"Move to the window."

She did. She always did what he asked when she was in a difficult situation, and Ro, again, followed, looking up at her curiously.

"Warn him."

"Of what?"

Wagner frowned, probably confused of why she would ask this question. Especially to ask for a cab.

"Warn him not to touch you. Raise a glass. Don't jump."

He had to see her to ask that. Had he really followed her to snipe possible threats? She didn't know if she had to feel protected or freaked out. The empty glass was raised and she saw Smith's eyes hope for a certain answer. "Mister Smith. I shall take my leave, but you have to know that if you dare touch a hair on my or any of my friends' hair-"

She expected it, but still jumped slightly as the window was pierced and the glass shattered in her hand. Ro started Barking, but a hand on his head stopped him short. Using the old man's panic, she dropped the shards, putting on a bored mask and smiled like a shark. "I am not alone."

Men and women were sprouting from everywhere to check on their boss, surprised by the fact he was unharmed.

"Now. Have a nice lunch, Mister Smith."

 

Various goons, maids and bodyguards tried to block her way, but a simple movement from Wagner opened the way for her. Down the ornate stairs she went, through the lobby where a maid gave back her vest, and off to the paved road. Her dog's claws clicking on the marble floors and the outdoor pavement. She only had to wait a minute before a car screeched to a stop in front of her and she climbed into the back seat after Ro, careful not to blow te driver's cover that was hidden through the tainted glass. As soon as the door was shut, the car drove away as fast as it came.

"Seatbelt." Said John, taking a harsh turn. 

She did as he asked again, noticing the gun case next to her. "Thanks... he was getting pushy."

"The offer?"

"Blackmail."

He huffed in acknowledgment.

"Thank you for getting me out."

"You already thanked me."

"That doesn't mean I can't do it multiple times... What do you think will happen?"

"Keep talking to your friends. If something seems suspicious, send Tina."

"Sure."

 

She leaned against the window for a short time before a bump in the road forced her to back down. She clutched her bag to her chest as Ro laid his head down on her laps.

"You okay?"

Wagner Smith's smile flashed white when she closed her eyes. She could still hear his voice, smooth as he spoke of scary promises. Ro whined softly.

"I heard about the Sanders' fate. I also know that they didn't have half of the power I have."

"I think so..."

She could feel his eyes on her through the mirror. Searching and finding her apparent lie. He stayed quiet until they arrived back home, stopping the car next to her own into her newest parking space. He didn't get out immediately, turning himself toward her.

"Let's get home, we'll deal with him later."

 

She nodded, moving her hand to the door handle and freezing up at the sight of blood. Wait what? She jumped as her door opened and John took her arm, pulling her out gently and moving her to the apartment. The dog rushed up the stairs, sniffing the air and, not finding anything suspicious, waited for the open door. John took the keys from her pocket and unlocked it, pulling her in again as she kept staring at her bloody hand, in shock of how it even happened. John pushed Ro away as he rushed to his mistress after smelling her panic, and he took off her coat, forcing her to sit.

"Look at me." She stayed unresponsive and he pushed her face up with his finger. "Look at me. You have a piece of glass in your hand. It needs stitches. I need you to look at it and tell me how."

"You can't do stitches?" She asked in confusion, voice wavering.

"The doctor is you. Look. Tell." 

Her eyes moved down to the source of the bloody mess, finding the small glass piece still deep in her skin. It was too small to have done much damage and she could still move her fingers. John came back, she hadn't even seen him leave, with the first-aid kit she had placed in her bedroom after her birthday, in case he had the good idea to come back bloody again. He opened it and gave her the things she needed, holding her hand palm-up the whole time. She did the stitches with watery eyes, his voice praised her work while his hand squeezed her lightly. He cut the tread as soon as she was done and started cleaning up the wound from blood as gently as possible.

"Thank you." She said, sniffing, as he dressed her hand with care. By now she could feel his body warmth from her spot between his legs. Comfort. That's what she was feeling.

"You did it."

"Let me thank you at least once."

He finished his work, stopping his hands around hers. "No problem."

He didn't stand up and neither did she. They stayed there, relishing each other's presence. Ro coming by to lay by their feet.

 

The silence stretched for minutes, none of them daring to move or break their shared silence. John opened his mouth. 

"Thank you." 

She looked at him, surprised. "What for?" 

He looked at her, lost in thoughts for a moment. "Being there." 

"I don't... I don't really understand, you saved me I don't know how many time and-" 

"Let me thank you."

Her mouth closed.

"You saved me too. Thank you for that." 

"It was just a few stitches not-"

"Not about that."

"Oh..." 

"Thank you."

For a moment, she was thrown away by how honest his eyes were. His voice was deep and always with some kind of gruffness to it. Eyes were the mirror of the soul, weren't they?

 

~***~

 

John could not look away. He did try. Her hair was in a ponytail, short hair framing her face. The sun was coming through the window and giving her some kind of a halo. He thought about Helen, about one of their last conversation about moving on. She had told him to find someone else if he could. Start with something small if he couldn't find the strength to do more. He looked at the woman in front of him, really looked. She had soft eyes, free from the weight that settled once you had taken a life. Kind and pure and true. Like Helen's but different... these eyes knew the side of him he refused to show his wife, but they bore no trace of fear or pity. Only trust and joy. Maybe something more. 

The shirt on her shoulder was a bit loose, enough to be comfortable while moving around, and her vest fit just right, sleeves covering all but her fingers. She simply looked at ease. There, in the moment, he could swear she wasn't completely human. Who in this world would still look like him like that after all he had done?

He couldn't help himself and his hand raised from its spot on hers, moving to her cheek. She jolted a bit when his skin touched hers, but leaned into the comforting touch, maybe without even noticing it. John leaned toward her, pulling at the same time. His lips pressed themselves on her forehead and she let out a small sigh. Her head nested itself in the crook of his neck and they stayed in that position for a while, enjoying each other's presence.

Deep into his heart, he could feel something grow where he thought the soil was dead. Something was stirring.

And it scared the shit out of him.

 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a while I was scared that my chapters were too short. Apparently 3k is the average for novels... Oh well!  
> I haven't finished the Chapter 10 yet, I really hope I won't have to skip a week!  
> My friend that Beta-ed me is way too occupied these days, so please be indulgent with me, Second language + Dyslexia doesn't mix that well! I'll do my best to find another Beta soon!
> 
> Again, thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you my readers! Reading your comments always warms my heart and make me write! Especially when I read other fics that haven't updated since 2006....
> 
> John is really really hard to write in a romantic fanfic because how the heck to you make an angsty man that just lost his wife fall for a wonky woman that didn't ask for nothin'? (Also, please have pity, you have no positive emotions my man...) Trying to write him well makes me rewrite once or twice scenes that I count as "out of character", but they mostly end up as "too fast for these angsty children"... LET ME ROMANCE YOU, JOHN!


	10. The darkness I fell in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up darker than the previous ones.   
> I updated the tags, but there is violence and graphic torture in this one (I am not sure it is actually this bad, but I prefer to be sure beforehand) also kind of suicidal mention? Let's be safe and say this gets ugly...

The doctor kept her usual routine going, except for the calls she made more often to her friends. Tina had been informed, and so had been Ivan and his men. Each and all of them willing to help her out if needed. Except the calls or letters from various powerful people that she answered with a 'no thanks', all was well. She kept meeting with Tina every Wednesday, crossing Wiston's path on Sundays, eating with John every day. Well surrounded. And that went on for two month.  Two month where John seemed more and more talkative. Seemed to only work when she was also, coming out of it as soon as her four knocks resonated. She wasn't whining, just pleasantly surprised. She liked when he was around. Liked seeing a side of him he didn't show anyone else. Like his smiles and low chuckles when she told him about silly things Ro did during his daily walk.

It was snowing on her fourth month on the job, the Sunday Winston was absent from the park. It did not surprise her much as he sometimes had too much work to come by or stay longer. Usually, he explained the following week.

During that time, Ro was having the time of his life, playing around catching snowflakes. She was sitting on the usual bench, throwing sunflower seeds at the pigeons. Winston had been very serious about that part. No bread for the birds. She could afford that without problem and only needed to throw a snowball to Ro once in a while to keep him away.  She looked up as the birds suddenly took flight, the silhouette of a man standing behind her.

"Hello, Doctor. I believe you should come with me."

Recognizing the voice, she jolted up and grabbed her phone, but it was knocked out of her hands before she could even press the speed dial. Her eyes scanned the park in panic, but could find no friendly face of casual joggers, just more men in trench coats closing down on her. How had she become so enraptured by stupid pigeons to not notice?

"You know, darling, I was sad that you left the coffee shop and joined people like Tina Amanita Antonio Vargas. I enjoyed your company..."

She searched for her phone and found it a bit farther than she liked. She pounced, grabbing it and opening it, almost- Someone yanked her back by taking a handful of her hair and for a second she panicked, dropping her precious phone. Remembering John's training that had continued after her meeting with Wagner Smith, she twisted around, kneed the man's family jewels and twisted again, out of his grip. Her knife seemed to appear in her hand as she snatched the phone back, hair loose and sticking to her face.

"I thought you would be more impressive than that, darling. I guess not having the Boogeyman to save you has its downsides."

Blood drained from her face. "What?"

"You think I don't know?" Chuckled Larry as a man took away her phone. "Come on, darling, it was obvious. You never killed a soul, you are shaking like a leaf and let men completely surround you. You couldn't have killed the Sanders."

"I-"

"And Tina, dear Tina arrived too late." He looked down at her, a predatory smile on his face. "I had tasked a team to look at you. One saw the dear Boogeyman run stealthily out of the building, only moments after you did. I would have assumed a coincidence if he hadn't left with one of your birthday gun in hand. What is it, little one? You're shaking!"

She was at a loss of what to do. Ro was nowhere to be found and she couldn't help the panic rising to her throat. The park was filled with Larry's men, she could try running but that would be hopeless. So would screaming. If the park was empty from its usual crowd, he wouldn't have made a mistake that simple... she straightened up, holding his stare.

"You then know that you should let me be, Larry. No one ends up well after messing with the Boogeyman's close friends."

"Close friends you say? It's Christmas! I thought you just had given him a job."

She clenched her jaw, blinking tears away. She was fucking it up, falling into each and every one of Larry's traps, and John would have to pay for it. She put her knife on her throat. The artery. Larry lost his smile.

"What are you doing?"

"Something you understand better apparently." She explained, cursing her shaky voice. "You let me go, with my phone, and I don't rat you out, or I slide my throat and you are in deep shit because I am a doctor. I know exactly how to do it."

"But you are just a doctor after all."

Her arm was ripped away from her neck, blade only breaking the skin before it was tossed under the bench. A wet tissue was placed on her mouth as she tried to replicate John's teaching. It didn't work. She probably had managed her last trick with the help of the element of surprise. She stopped breathing, moving her shoulders as if she was, slowly turning weaker and hoping it was an accurate reaction, breathing by her nose as little as possible. She finally closed her eyes and went limp, keeping the theatrics. She really hoped they would put the chloroform away soon, her vision was getting woozy. They didn't. The clothe was still on her nose and mouth, and when she felt herself slip, she trashed around, screaming the loudest she could against it. The surprise of her captor allowed her a second of free voice before her mouth was covered again.

She could hear Larry laugh as everything slowly turned to black.

_ John! _

_ Help- _

~***~

John was staring at the phone. It had been an hour since she was supposed to be back. He always received a call if something happened. Always. So he called.

"The doctor is out at the moment, she'll call back as soon as-"

"Where is she." Not even a question. John didn't have time for questions. Not with the white-hot rage that filled his veins the monent Larry's voice answered her phone.

"Oh! Boogeyman! John Wick in the flesh! Well, on the phone I gue-"

"Where?" A laugh answered. He wanted to hang up but if Larry Roman had her, he needed to get details.

"In bed, don't you worry, she's sleeping! With that kind of life of hers, she needed it."

"What do you want?"

"It's up to thirty millions, John. I want your head on a silver platter."

"Let her go."

"And now you sound like a very cliché movie. Is there romance? You know I am a sucker for a good flick."

"You know you are already dead. I offer you a quick one if she walks out unharmed."

"I have no doubt you'll do your best. But see, I met a wonderful man named Wagner Smith a month ago. He was interested in a deal. Since you've been so polite, I shall tell you about a certain task force on their way to you. Do not worry. As soon as your head is in my hands, she'll be free to go back to her boring, boring life." A pause. "John?"

He hoped Larry hadn't moved the phone away as he shot right next to the receiver before hanging up. With some luck, the asshole would still be deafened when he'd shoot him.

His first stop was his closet to get a suit, next was the weapon hideout. By the time boots started climbing stairs, John had a dozen of reloads on his person, five guns, and six knives. He turned off all lights and curtains he could.

 

Baba Yaga was hunting tonight.

Charlie was going to be pleased.

~***~

She woke up in an awfully decorated room. Well, that was something she preferred to think about instead of her chained wrists and the fact she was hanging from the celling, feet barely reaching the ground. At least she was clothed, the fear of a sex dungeon was still terribly present. There were knives, scalpels, syringes and all kind of sharp objects on table nearby. Meticulously placed by size.

Some classical music started playing as a door opened, Larry casually walking in. He stopped and made a face. 

"She didn't react like I wanted her to, put my usual playlist. Being cliché won't do." The music immediately changed to some smooth jazz and he smiled. "Well, well, well. Come here often?"

Talking would be useless with him. She also didn't want to give him anything, so she settled for a glare.

"Answer when I ask a question, darling."

"Let me go."

 

A slap took her by surprise and tears filled her eyes from the aftershock. "That wasn't really nice of you to change the subject. To think I was trying to be nice."

Gosh. He said that clichés wouldn't do, but he was apparently following them by the book. For the moment, her cheek felt like it was on fire. He had rings on. That explained a lot. "Please, let me go before John comes for you." She even dared a smiled.

This time, she saw the hand coming and turned her head at the same time as the blow, weakening it. Another trick from John's training. It still hurt much more than she had anticipated. Larry did not hold his blows.

"You listen to me, doc." Spitted Larry with venom, roughly grabbing her face to make her look at him, fingers pressing into her red cheeks. He ignored her small whimper of pain at the action. "Your knight in shining armour is not coming. He has no way to track you down, no access to weapons, and no one on his fucking side. So you are about to suffer for a long, long time... and I will enjoy every single second of it."

He let her go just as roughly, turning his back to her to get to one table, grabbing a scalpel.

"Please..." She begged, seeing where this was going. "I did nothing to you."

He smirked as soon as he turned back to her, walking deliberately slow. "Oh, but you did. You refused to give your phone number to a very, very nice guy." The scalpel was placed on her shoulder, lightly. "And that made him very, very sad."

She screamed as he stabbed her with the blade, not saving a second on dramatics before twisting it. Craving into the muscle. He moved his hand back, leaving the blade painfully in.

"That's better." With a surprisingly gentle gesture, he wiped one of her tear away. "You know what's sad? If you had said yes to me, I would have made you scream out of pleasure... so sad you choose to put the one and only John Wick into your bed instead..."

Her next answer was cut short by a punch.

After that, Larry got creative.

~***~

After dealing with the goons, John had looted them quickly, put on a coat to hide the less-subtle duo of firearms added to his collection and walked out.

He arrived at the park to find Ro running towards him. Alive but alone. At least she wouldn't have to lose her dog like he did. He knew he had little time, so he went back to the apartment, grabbed her car keys, and made his way to the Continental. Dog in tow.

Charon didn't even blink. That couldn't be said from the clients that had been casually sitting and drinking coffee when John Wick himself had walked in, covered in weapons. No one had even reached for their guns. There is something that stopped them called survival instincts and basic reason. Ro was left with Charon without either men uttering a single word and no one raised a finger when he made his way to the roof. Winston didn't even look surprised. Assuming the worse, his current business partner took her suitcase and ran out as soon as she managed to.

"Johnathan." He appeared to have heard already. "What happened to her? Tell me she's alive."

"Larry Roman got her. Made a deal with Wagner Smith."

"Oh." He said with rage boiling right under the surface. "What do you need?"

Two people tried to stop them. None died. An angry Winston is never a soothing sign but at least it keeps people at bay. After all, someone had broken a very important rule. The doctor was a Continental employee, therefore under its rules and protection.

When John finally walked out, he had two more bags, a new car to replace hers and a list of names to contact.

~***~

She couldn't say if it had been hours, days, or weeks. But she had fainted five times, had two blood transfusion, and was brought water and food twice. At least that was what she remembered or was conscious for. Her shoulders had traded pain for numbness a while ago now. She wondered if that was how people went mad. The bits people lost or missed.

Looking at a pool of their own blood still dripping at their feet made her wonder if it was worth it. The blood pocket barely keeping her alive. Maybe John had moved on. She wouldn't be surprised. She was just a roommate after all.  The one that came through the door this time was Wagner. He didn't seem pleased.

"I'm sorry about mister Roman." He said, stopping the annoying loop of a particularly horrible chewing gum commercial that Larry had put on repeat for the last four seances as another form of torture. "He has dreadful etiquette with guests."

With a hand gesture, a woman moved to a panel and slowly lowered a lever. The bloodied woman body moved to the floor and stayed there, weeping softly as both her shoulders and wounds shared their pains with her again. She knew Larry had only cut and pierced, but she felt as if he had thrown her into acid for days, the salt of her sweat stinging the fresh cuts.

 

"I hoped he would have at least given you a break. This man has no manners."

"Let... me go..." She said through the tears. She could feel every single cuts stretch with her lungs, the sting of the pierced sole of her feet. She just wanted for it to end. For it to stop.

"You should know that I didn't expect any of this. At least, to this extent-"

"Kill..."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Kill me... please..."

"I am terribly sorry, but we are trying to catch a man that probably can smell if people are alive or dead from miles and miles away. You are our bargaining chip."

"John... kill you..."

"Not if I kill him first."

She closed her eyes. Every inch of her body seemingly trying to kill her. Every cut seeping blood... Everything begging her to stop it. To give up. She let exhaustion take her, hoping not to open her eyes ever again. The last thing she heard was Wagner's voice.

"You are dreadful at conversations too, apparently."

~***~

If there was a thing John hated, it was waiting. Right after that was false leads.

The young man in front of him was his third one of the two days that followed her kidnapping. He was starting to loose it. Raphael, if that was the boy's real name, was shaking. Terror was making him tremble so hard he had dropped his knife four times. As soon as he had noticed he was the last one of his group still breathing, he had given up reaching for it. Peeing himself was the second step, but no one would judge him considering his position. Backed against a wall with a fulminating John Wick armed to the teeth right in front of him. Not many bladders could take that stress.

"Where?" Asked the monster in front of him. Precise and deadly like the blade still covered in warm blood that he held.

"I-I don't know! I swear! I-I'm new and they didn't- please don't kill me!"

The knife was raised in a graceful arch, sending specks of blood in the night air.

"They're in a bunker!" The young man squeaked, the hand of his unbroken arm raised in a weak form of protection. "They-They talked about un-undergrounds shit-Stuff! I don't know anything else, please-"

"Get a new hobby."

 

John left the boy to sob in his corner. He would have killed him if he wasn't that young. He was young enough for redemption. If he found it before death.

The short fight had taken away some tension and he was thinking more clearly by now. He had a real lead this time. Bunkers narrowed down the possible spots to three, but he couldn't get into the wrong one in case Roman and Smith used the distraction to flee somewhere else and make him start all over again. Knowing Larry, he needed her out yesterday. Every second was one closer to loosing her.  The next lead was a name in the notebook Winston gave him. Being Excomunicado was a pain in itself, but it was the most annoying when trying to get help for a rescue mission. Of the fifty-something names on the list, half were dead - some of them very recently, at a private meeting with the Boogeyman - and of the other half, he only trusted six to actually listen before going for their guns. There was only one he knew would listen, but personal history was getting in the way.

He could swear his scar tingled unpleasantly when he texted Tina's number. She agreed to work from her side and he didn't doubt for a second she had been searching for Larry for as long as he did.

~***~

Water was splashed on her face before the familiar clicking of chains was heard, quickly followed by some Jazz. The scratchy metal on her raw wrist as she was pulled back straight made her whimper, but the pull on her shoulders was worse. Her throat was raw when she started sobbing again.

"Hello, darling. Had a nice night?" Larry passed a hand on her ruined pant leg, a smile in his voice. "I can see Wagner gave you the five-stars treatment. Hope you liked it. It won't happen often."

"Kill me..." She asked again. Not sure what else she could ask for by that point.

"Oh, no, no, no. Darling. Don't be such a downer. I need you alive. You're better and better each day. What would I do without your company?"

He broke three of her fingers and cut her left leg into what felt like Shish Kebab this time. He stopped when a message sounded at the intercom.

 

"Sir! There is a problem!"

"Shit." Larry walked to a panel on the wall, taking his bloodied gloves off. "Is it Wick?"

"No, sir!" Answered the panicked voice. "It's Vargas and Ivan Netrov, sir. They look pissed!"

"Netrov?" There was genuine confusion in his voice. "Why the hell would he-"

"Also Anderson, sir. They want to talk to you, sir."

"I'm on my way."

With a last glare to her weak form, he walked away. The door closed behind him, some Jazz tunes still filling the air.

So the woman waited, breathing with difficulty. The dripping blood hitting the floor out of rhythm. She could only think about the sounds while she was slipping out of consciousness. She heard gunshots and screams, both getting closer. At one point the lights even turned red, an alarm drowning the other sounds. She felt a gentle hand on her cheek and opened her eyes, just a bit, ready to close them again at the vision of blond hair.

His hair was black and his eyes were brown.

It was John.

She felt like crying again.

~***~

On the third day, Tina found the place. She texted him a classic warning to not harm the doctor in any way or else... He would have smiled if he wasn't so pissed at Roman. She also informed him that Ivan and Anderson were joining in and that they would meet at the front, try to talk. In the evening, John got in from the back door. Tina, Ivan and Anderson tried to talk it out. Tried.  As soon as the first shot rang, all hell broke loose. They had expected John. Maybe Tina too... They didn't expect Winston to get involved, which was stupid in itself. No one touched Continental staff and came out unhurt. Through the panic, most of the staff of the hideout was unruly. It was almost too easy. The only obstacle was finding the right door, but John was meticulous. He wasn't so rusty anymore. And he was angry, so very angry.  The light turned red and an alarm echoed, deafening, down the hall. Tina had chosen to fight then. He finally came to the torture room where he spotted a puddle of blood linked to the two dangling feet of a hanging silhouette. A very bloody silhouette. John's shoes clicked on the floor as he got closer and he ignored the wet sound they started making after a few steps. He could hear breathing. Weak but present. Raising his hand, he cupped her face, the feeling of sweat, blood and tears under his palm fuelling his rage. Her eyes fluttered open, guarded but so, so tired. As soon as she recognized him, a spark of hope appeared into them. A soothing sign. She recognized him.

He had tried a somehow subtle approach so far. Fighting with his hands and knifes instead of resorting to guns. But seeing her like this, he didn't waste a single second before passing one arm around her and shooting her chains. She cried in pain as her arms fell down and her weight repartition changed, pulling on the various cuts. He lowered them until he was on his knees, checking the severity of her wounds. John took in the broken fingers, the slashed leg and the state of her feet with a clenched jaw. He cradled her form into his arms, stood up and turned to the door.

Larry stood there, clothes bloodied and gun in hand. He turned deadly pale. Probably because of the pure rage that was directed at him from the eyes of John Wick himself. "We can talk-" He started, right before a bullet passed through his forehead. He fell down with glazed eyes. Dead. John looked down at the woman in his arms. Her eyes were closed now, probably unconscious from the pain.  Cuts were all over her, just deep enough to bleed and hurt without causing her to bleed out too fast. Professional work that made him regret shooting the blond man so quickly.

 

"Where is she?!" Yelled Tina from somewhere up the corridor, footsteps hard to pinpoint over the loud alarm. From the sound of it, she had at least three people with her. She appeared in the doorway, looking down at Larry's corpse. Her eyes turned to the room, meeting John's.

She was visibly taken aback for a second before she spotted the body in his arms. The hair color, the size, the sheer amount of blood... Her gun pointed straight to his forehead.

"Let her go, Wick. She's innocent."

"I know."

She frowned, unsure how to react. "What are you even-" her eyes moved to his hand, holding the doctor's. She lowered her gun with her jaw clenched tight. "I'll cover you. Let's go."

He hated every second of the way out. Various people from either side paused when he passed, wondering who to go for before Tina called them back to order. The woman in his arms, rolled in his bulletproof vest, was whimpering softly which he hated as much as he loved. Every moan of pain meant she was still alive and breathing. A car was waiting up front and he all but jumped in, quickly followed by Tina. The vehicle's wheels screeched as it took off toward the Continental.

"So. What is this about?" Tina sounded more confused than mad, looking at him from the front seat. If she was just asking questions, it was a good sign.

"Personal."

She sighed, annoyance visible in the line of her shoulders. "I won't shoot you until I get some kind of explanation. From you or from her... How is she?"

He found her pulse. Weak. "Bad."

"You're not allowed to let her die, Wick."

He looked down at his precious cargo. Sliding some dirty hair away from her face. "I know."

 

His eyes never left her weak body. That was how he missed Tina's glance. Surprised but relieved. The Doc did have a bodyguard after all. And she couldn't have chosen better.

~***~

She opened her eyes in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed. For a moment she feared it would be Larry again. Playing with her. Finally getting into a new kind of torture. Someone was by her side, reading a book, but the skin was too dark. Tina turned her head and her face filled with relief.

"You're awake! Thank god, this was nerve wrecking..."

"Ti-" Her voice was rough and her throat was awfully dry.

"Shhh. Don't talk. I'm here, you're safe at the Continental. Larry's dead and Wagner is gone. You're safe it's okay."

Had she imagined John? Had he came for her? Maybe it had been Tina and she had imagined things. With the days she had, it wouldn't be surprising. The assassin seemed to spot her confusion and smiled gently, patting her exposed forearm where an IV was planted.

"Wick is fine. Winston wanted to talk to him and he needed rest after staying at your side for so long. I told him I would watch over you... and Ro was there anyway."

 

A glance proved her right with the sleeping canine at the end of the bed. Canine that suddenly jolted up and sprinted the very short distance up the bed to lick his master's face that wasn't covered in bandages. She raised a hand to pat him without managing to, only a pained yelp escaped her, prompting the dog to whine.

"Don't push it. You're in an awful shape." Half-ordered Tina before pushing Ro a bit so he wouldn't press on any wound by accident. "You're feeling okay? I mean, not horribly bad?"

"Fine." She answered, voice cracking. "Water."

"Oh, yeah, sure." A cup with a straw was in her hands almost immediately. "Here you go. Just go slowly." While the bed-ridded woman drank, the assassin resumed. "So you're friend with the Boogeyman. Why aren't I surprised?"

"Roommate." She answered between sips.

"Come on. The man had to be ripped away from you so a doctor could treat you. It was wild."

"How long... was I-?"

"Almost 48 hours, give or take. You got us all real worried for a moment, but you're a fighter." A smile. "Winston said that Wick scared the reaper away. I wholeheartedly believe it."

"Where-"

"Wick's with Winston, I told you already. He will probably be there soon anyway. I doubt he will take the room that the manager offered him. If he sleeps it will be here, gun in hand, between you and the door." Hurried footsteps were heard before the door opened. "Talking about..."

 

She did not saw him coming, but a second he was at the door, the next he was holding her hand, looking her over. "Are you okay?"

"Fine."

His head fell on his chest with a deep relieved sigh that prompted a comfortable silence, at least to them both, no clue about Tina. After a second or two he looked back up. "Don't die on me."

She simply smiled, unaware of how many unpleasant flashbacks he was currently working through. Pale walls, IV, a weak woman lying in bed, smiling at him... it was almost too much. But she was alive. She was conscious. He wasn't letting her go. Not this time.

Under his burning gaze, her expression turned to worry. "John... I'm okay..."

One of her hand raised to hold his but she moaned in pain and dropped it. He caught it and looked at its state. Bandaged heavily, he could still remember her broken fingers hiding under it, her bloodied self, the pain she was in. He pulled her hand to his cheek and exhaled shakily. She hadn't deserved that. He should have been the one. He should have-

 

The door closed behind Tina that neither of them had noticed leaving. They stayed there, alone, together. The doctor sighed. "I'm... okay John... I am now..."

He looked up at her, beaten up and covered in various bandages. She was far from the definition of 'okay', but her eyes still so full of kindness and warmth. Again. This same feeling glowed in his chest. "I'm sorry." He hoped no emotion could be heard in his answer. He was wrong.

She pulled his hand to her, biting her lips against the pain, until it was on her cheek. "Thank you." She leaned into his touch, feeling safe again. "Thank you... John..."

They both seemed frozen in time. Relishing that small moment. John was unable to breath. Stuck with someone else he did not think he deserve. Someone else that still wanted him despite everything. Her eyes were closed, only thinking about the comfort his touch gave her. He whispered her name and she opened them.  He leaned over to kiss her forehead like he had done a few times already, a comforting touch, but froze a few inch away. He could hear the beeping of a machine slowly turning into a flat tone. The steps of the doctor leaving the room. His hand was squeezed and pulled him back to the present, to the woman looking at him with worry. He shook his head and sat back.

When Winston walked in to check on her, she smiled, not letting go of John's hand.

For a second she wondered if she was a fool for hoping that the Boogeyman had kissed her.

~***~

"So, how is Johnathan?"

It still was weird hearing his full name, as if it did not fully suit him. She blinked at her breakfast and lowered the strawberry she was planning to eat, looking up at Winston. John was 'on break' as they called it. Which was basically a special time out where he had to eat, drink and shower. They had tried to add sleep to the mix, but he refused to do so if not in the same room as hers. In his defence, a high percentage of the hotel wanted his head on a spike.

"He's better I think." She answered, holding his gaze. "He looks less stressed than yesterday..."

"In his defence, you were unconscious for at least fifteen hours yesterday. He wasn't the only one walking around like a caged beast."

"Tina haven't stop saying I lost my favourite spot since he's back here."

"Favourite?"

"I apparently was yours for a while."

He chuckled. "Oh, yeah, the favourite thing. I had almost forgotten..." He snatched some grapes from her plate and leaned back in his chair. "I've known Johnathan for a long time. Marcus found him first, but I couldn't help myself from getting attached to that efficient boy. He's one of the most honorable of us all, but I bet you noticed that already."

"I- Well, he is kind... to me..."

"Well, you like him."

She tripped on her own words. "He- I- Friends! We're friends. Yes."

Winston chuckled, popping one fruit into his mouth and chewing. His eyes were laughing at her. " _Friends_. Of course."

"Roommates."

"Whatever make you sleep at night, darling."

She looked down, face burning red like a schoolgirl. She didn't understand what the big deal was. They were roommates, friends even. They cared about each other, why was everyone acting like friendship always ended in romance?

"I'm just teasing you, don't worry. I'm glad Johnathan found someone else to keep him grounded."

This got her curiosity peaking. Someone? Like his late wife? "Grounded?"

"Johnathan is a very good killer, but I bet you noticed his social skills are... lacking in parts. When he came to me and talked about Helen for the first time, I almost couldn't recognize him. The monster was a man again."

"Helen was his wife..."

"Yes. She was sick, but very much alive and kicking. I only met her once, almost five years ago, at their wedding. She had no idea of the Boogeyman's existence, she could only see the man beneath. What a woman... I never thought that he would fall for that type." Winston's eyes went to hers, a smirk on his face. "I was very much wrong."

"I don't like how you're looking at me..."

"Kind and gentle but with some fire inside, never wanting anyone to get hurt, too kind for her own good... She was something. I'm glad he found her. I'm glad he found you."

"He's my friend." Her voice was weaker than before. Confused. Unsure. 

She knew damn well what Winston was implying, but it was... weird to imagine it. But with Winston's words about Helen... Her memories of domestic moments with John suddenly felt wrong... Was he just staying with her as a replacement? Maybe a rebound? She was fine about being friends. She could deal with just friends...

So why did she felt so uneasy?

~***~

John wanted to leave the Hotel as soon as she was able to be moved, but they hit a wall. Some people knew that he was tied to her. That he cared. And with thirty millions on the line, no one's objective was being polite or noble about it, no matter her employee status. They settled on something much bigger than she had planned. Moving her to Rome.  Traveling was not something she despised, but rather enjoyed... when _planned_. All she had on her was clothes that Tina had found her. Apparently, her apartment was closed to her, probably heavily guarded by many different units. She would go oversea with the excuse of being Tina's personal assistant and stay at the Continental of Rome until the dust settled. John wasn't pleased.

"I am going with her."

"Johnathan, if you are spotted, she will be the one in danger. Think."

"Wick, it's okay." Sighed Tina. "I will watch over her until she's in Julius' hands. Nothing will happen to her and you two have the phones. You'll talk as soon as she'll set foot in the airport."

John's eyes moved to the doctor that was fidgeting in her seat. "I'm not leaving you again."

Her hands twisted on her laps. "I don't know John... I-" She looked down, uncomfortable under his gaze. "I'm a weak link... if I stay or if you follow, someone else could grab me and-" She closed her eyes, quickly opening them again when the back of her eyelids turned the images haunting her more vivid. Scalpels, knifes, cutting, slashing, stabbing, piercing- she was back there, she couldn't move, she couldn't breath, she-

A warm hand took one of hers, placing it on a firm torso and covering her hand. John's hand that wasn't already occupied went to the middle of her torso, mirroring the position. As if on reflex, her free hand went on top of his over her heart.

"Breath." He said, breathing more slowly than usual.

She could feel his lungs expend in a slow rhythm that she did her best to imitate. Seconds or minutes passed, she didn't know, but he pulled his hand away from her chest and stood back up. If she felt for a moment as if he didn't care anymore, that idea disappeared when he squeezed her hand lightly before letting it go.

Winston and Tina were looking at her with worry and she looked down, face burning in embarrassment. John took the chair at her left and pulled it almost touching hers. He sat down on it hands on his knees.

"So. Should I come with?"

All she wanted to do was to take one of his hand and maybe crawl in his embrace so she would forget about how she still had casts on her fingers and a bandaged leg. She rubbed her eyes instead. "I think... It'd be safer if I leave with Tina first... I want to be sure not to cause any trouble..."

He nodded, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. He disapproved.

"Then it's a plan." Exclaimed Tina with a clap of her hands. "We're going to Rome!"

~***~

She couldn't fall asleep in flight.

Safety wasn't an issue with Tina sitting right next to her. They had pulled some strings to bring weapons with them on the flight. A few hours ago, John had left for London in a private jet, not hiding himself and with one of Ivan's bodyguards that looked like her at his arm. From the note Winston had given her as soon as she had put the wig of her own disguise on, the rumours followed their plan. John would disappear in London and make his way to Italy alone. Charon was taking care of Ro while Anderson made sure to put a price on Wagner Smith's head. They were supposed to lay low for a month and then separately make their own way back to New York.  It was a good, solid plan, but she felt absolutely horrible. As if something was about to go very, very wrong. She fidgeted in her seat before looking out the window. They were almost there, already flying over land. The screen said they would be there in forty minutes. She closed her eyes.

 

She was in a room. There was no memory of coming there, but for some reason it made sense. She stood up from her seat and looked around, there was a table, two chair and one door. No windows or other sign it was lived in or had any history. The door was the only interesting thing around.

She opened it and froze. John was there, but a woman was in his arms, both holding each other in an embrace. What shocked the doctor the most was not the ever changing hairstyle of the woman, but John's expression. At peace... Laughing. She had seen him smile and maybe even chuckle... But this? Never. He looked young. He looked better. He looked... handsome. Not that she hadn't noticed before, but never had he been so... openly happy. Radiating with joy and pleasure. He was breathtaking. The woman in his arms turned her head to smile at her, face so kind it almost felt fake. She had long nails sinking into John's shoulders, drawing blood. Her smile turned sad as she looked back at the man still smiling down at her.

"You have to let me go, John." She said softly. "You have to move on."

The doctor heard a dripping sounds and looked down, surprised to find tears leaving her eyes without blurring her view at all. The drops fell to the floor, having the same effect as if hitting a surface of water. Yet the reverberation seemed to gain intensity the more it spread. She looked up at the couple again, the liquid floor riding slowly to their knees. Or were they sinking? In a sudden burst of fear, she ran to them but they just seemed to stay at the same distance out of her grasp. John was unbothered, keeping his charade of smiles and laughs while the Woman in his arms panicked.

"Let me go, John!" She begged, nails stuck in his flesh and blood tainting his shirt as well as the white liquid slowly rising to their hips. "You have to let me go! You have to wake up!"

"John!" Yelled the second woman, finally making some way closer to the duo. "John stop!"

His face turned slowly toward her as the now scarlet liquid reached the woman's shoulders. He lost his smile for confusion, whispering her name as if she was a ghost.

"Wake up!" Kept screaming the woman. "WAKE UP!"

"John!"

Her eyes opened on Tina's worried face. She was breathing hard, a thin sheet of sweat covering her as she looked around wildly. Two stewardess were looking at her with worry as well as a dozen of passengers.

"It's ok. I'm here. It was a nightmare." Said Tina, using her hand to bring back her friend's attention to her. "Nightmare. You're okay?"

The doctor nodded, grasping at the last fading memories of the dream, or nightmare, she just had. She passed a hand on her damp forehead as she remembered John laughing at a woman, then blood and drowning. She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes to take a deep breath while Tina's hand rubbed her back. After almost everyone went back to their business, she leaned toward her friend again.

"What was that?" She asked in a concerned whisper. "I knew you were roommates, but I didn't know you cried his name in your sleep... please tell me you had a nightmare and not something else..."

"Nightmare..."

"Larry?" The name was spat with such venom, it took her aback for a second.

"No... No."

"Okay... you do that often?"

"I don't think so?"

"Good. We're about to land."

Except from a few looks, no one paid any attention to the duo, even when a stewardess walked them out before everyone else. A pristine car was waiting from them outside the airport and quickly brought them to a great Hotel. Yet another Continental. An older man was waiting for them and smiled wide at the sight of Tina.

"Tina, my dear, how was the flight?"

"Uneventful, Julius. Thank you for the warm greeting, this is my new assistant, Amelie. Amelie, this is Julius, the Rome Continental owner. A very good friend of mine."

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Amelie." He said in a warm tone, shaking her extended hand. "From what I gather you will stay at the Hotel until you are healed."

"Y-Yes."

"Good. Well I will make sure you'll get the best of services. It's your first time in Rome, isn't it?"

"Yes but-"

"Great! I must go back to my business, but if you'll agree, I'd enjoy having lunch with you."

"Sure?"

"Wonderful. Tina." He bowed slightly with a smile before turning on his heels and leaving to greet a pompous man.

"Um... okay?"

Tina laughed, patting her friend in the back, careful with the still-healing slashes. "Welcome to Rome. Let's get you to your room."

The woman let her friend bring her to an elevator without question. The questions would have to wait.

And she soon would have a lot of time to ask them.

_ To be continued... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter done! I have my plans for the next chapter, but I have to warn you all that I will skip one week before updating chapter 11. For one I have to finish it, but I also am in my finals weeks and did not plan well. BUT! You get a chapter that is 7k words long, basically 2 chapter worth! A good deal! (Also thank you to all the ones that actually comment ON FRIDAY and remind me to post the chapters XD
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, see you again on April 19th for the eleventh chapter, IN ROME!
> 
> Sorry for every reader called Amelie that will have to deal with the cover name being their actual one, I couldn't invent one on the spot


	11. Who are you Amelie

_Amelie_. That was what people called her in Rome. Tina's assistant. The coffee fetcher. The civilian. She stayed an honoured guest, but felt the downgrade compared to when she was hiding with John in New York. Guess she was Winston's favourite after all. Not that a smaller room didn't suit her of course, the Continental, even on the other side of the ocean, still was a five stars hotel. It just surprised her how much she had gone used to expensive things. She had changed way more than she would have ever believed.

Tina had left her at the Hotel for the evening, doing her best to sever all possible ties with her as she was supposed to be in London with John. "Keep the cover" she had said. Wigs were uncomfortable. She ended up taking a quick dreamless nap for one hour and a half before changing as quick as she could with her current bandaged state and go downstairs to find the restaurant part of the Hotel. Julius was waiting for her at a fancy table. The meal was quick, where he asked questions that she answered quickly and with little truth. Something felt very wrong out of the sudden, and she tanked him as he refused to let her pay, leaving to her room. She let herself fall on the bed and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

~***~

When she woke up, the sun was already high and her head was pounding despite her lack of drinking the night before. Jet lag had her confused for a minute. Right. Europe. The six or seven hours earlier than New York. At least, Tina had included the free breakfast on her bill, and with her weird way of waking up extremely early by default, the doctor was eating before 11. The more she stayed alone in the Hotel, the more she felt like she was suffocating. The high ceilings seemed to crush her, marble floors so odd out of a sudden, so alien. Every face seemed to turn to her, every eyes burnt the nape of her neck. Every laugh a cut. Every murmur a scream.

She passed the ornate doors and kept walking, only coming to a stop in a park. It was quieter there. Fresher. Children were playing, people were doing their jog, walking their dogs... In Italian. No surprise there, but suddenly, everything crashed into her as if she had been pretending the last months.

 

_What the fuck was she doing?_

She had no diploma in medicine yet treated patients after patients. It was probably highly illegal no matter the country. She had brought an assassin in her house and casually played the good roommate part even as he killed people in her immediate presence. Walked head-first into the assassin's Underground that lead her to being almost kidnapped twice and tortured once.

Her eyes went to her hands, freckled with pink scars where there wasn't still bandages.

She would never be the same because of it. Yet she kept going as if it was just a bad dream of sorts, some casual thing that she could get out when she stopped having the trill of curiosity. She was in Rome, with a wig, with glasses she would never wear by her own choice, hiding from a man that threatened her friends so she would work for him. She had run across the ocean so she would survive.

But the worst of it all was that she knew that the moment she would see John's eyes, she would forget it all. Was she even attracted to him? Granted he was handsome and really kind to her, but he was a killer. She met him while he was bleeding out from stabbing and gunshot wounds. He protected her as much as he was the reason she needed protection. She liked him, considered him a friend... but was it only because of some kind of Stockholm syndrome? Because she hadn't romanced anyone in years? Was she just needy? Begging for attention that she believed a stranger could give her? She had seen his ring. Seen him fidget with it without noticing. He was mourning his wife. He just needed a doctor around, or maybe just someone to distract him?

She remembered their domestic moments. Lunches spent chatting to each other about everything and all. That time he had used the cold weather to hide his face with a scarf and take Ro on a walk with her. The time she had a nightmare right after she was saved from Larry and she woke up to John sitting on the side of the bed, holding her hand and telling her that she was safe over and over again. She felt safe with him, at ease. But he was the reason she felt unsafe the rest of the time. Would she survive on this? The small hope that it would be enough? That John smiling would be worth living her whole life running away from so many people she never even met?

 

She sat on a bench and took a deep breath. A breakdown now, in Rome of all places, was not an interesting prospect. She took a few deep inhales, head between her knees.

Some feet stopped in front of her. A deep voice asked something in Italian and she straightened up hoping her face wasn't too red from the blood rush.

He was in a wonderful coat, dark skin and shaved head. Eyes curious and worried with his hands in his pockets. It was a cold day after all.

"I'm sorry... tourist."

"Oh." He exclaimed, a smile grazing his lips. "I was asking if you were ok. You seemed... sick." His english was devoid of any accent which sounded odd after the flawless Italian that preceded it.

"I am fine, just got a lot on my mind..."

She felt his eyes on her bandaged hands and on the bandaid on her forehead.

"Accident?"

"You can call it that..."

"Can I sit next to you?"

At that point, what could even go worse? Rain? She made a hand gesture and he took place, extending his hand.

"I'm Cassian."

"I'm- Amelie." Close one. "Nice to meet you."

"You come here often?"

That peculiar arrangement of words were known to be flirty at best. He just sounded genuinely curious.

"No, first time in Rome. I am an assistant and my boss needed to strike a deal here." Again in the carefully chosen lies... She couldn't recognize herself.

"Hey, you're okay? You seem down again... I know it's not my place, but nod if you feel unsafe."

It took her a moment to realize. "I- Oh! No, no! I didn't-" Well, it wasn't really... But maybe close enough. She looked down at her hands. "I just got out of it. He won't hurt me anymore."

He seemed to unwind. "Good. Is there something I can do to help, you look... sad."

 

She was indeed making a face and she took off her mask. Might as well be honest with one stranger in a foreign country. "Sorry, I'm actually here to wait for some dust to settle... It happened in New York. Needed some time off." 

"Understandable."

She relaxed a bit. It felt good to be honest again. "I left my dog there. I miss him. My friends and family too..."

"How long will you be oversea?"

"I have no idea... It's not my call."

"Odd."

For some reason, he made her think of John. Same monotone voice, same short answers, same simplicity. Same careful balance of expressions and tone. Same safety. Well, almost same safety. He was still very much a stranger and had no way of knowing she was a waitress on the run from assassins that tortured her for being a doctor without a diploma. It was a dramatic way of putting it, but not so far from the truth. Cassian seemed to notice someone in the street and stood up.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Amelie."

"Likewise."

With a smile, he left, hands back in his pockets.

She noticed that her breathing was back to normal and, after checking, so was her pulse. She stood up and walked back to the Continental. 

~***~

"A Safe house?"

"We think it's for the best."

 

Tina was obviously trying her best to calm down the doctor about the change of plan which was not going so well.

"It's the safest option Amelie... Someone spotted the Boogeyman in France, everyone will be restless in the hotel and you could be targeted."

She know damn well that the reason she could be targeted was not what Julius thought it was, but it didn't stop her blood to boil. "And you're saying I'll have to stay over a month here? What about Ro?!"

"Your dog's with Charon. He will be fine. Also, you'll do better in the countryside for a while. You'll be with a sweet grandmother in a cute farm with all the fresh air, away from the Underground..."

"And you're telling me I can tell no one about that either?" It hung between them. The lost connection with John. Not that they had managed more than once short conversation to check if they were unharmed. 

"It's not safe."

"I am sick of being moved around!"

 

"I assure you it'll be over quickly... just... something happened and we need you off the map." 

She frowned. "What? What happened?"

"It's about your apartment..." 

"What happened to my apartment, Tina?" She asked, throat constricting with dread. She felt sick.

"It- um... burnt."

"What?!"

"Please Amelie, calm down-"

"Calm down?! My home burnt down and I should just chill in Rome?!"

"Please. Sit back down."

"You know what? Fine!" She exclaimed, emotions overflowing her. She longed for her family, her friends, her dog. Everything she had apparently walked away from the second she had decided to bring a bloody man home. She refused to listen to her heart that whispered promises about seeing John and sobbing in his arms. He was the cause of all of this. The reason she changed. "Bring me to that safe house! I don't care anymore. I'll go make my bag. I apparently sold my soul, might as well act like it."

"Amelie-"

 

She ignored her friend, eyes burning with angry tears of betrayal and pain. The more time passed, the more she felt disconnected from everything. Her old life, her new life. Nothing could fit anymore. She longed for her stupid waitress job, and yet wondered if she would have had to deal with Larry still. He came to the Café before knowing she worked with the Continental. Or maybe he did and lied. She couldn't go back to a small job now, an assassin was bound to knock at her door someday and bring her back. She couldn't work at the Continental since she was now nothing more than a bait for the Boogeyman...

Her bag was done quickly as she had only slept at the hotel for one night. The overwhelming sensation of everything crumbling around her made it hard to breath correctly. Too much. Too fast. Too heavy. Her hand fished her phone out of her pocket and called John's number. It was out of their agreed phone schedule but she didn't care. 

"Who." His voice on the other end was cold. Full of horrifying promises. She was shocked for a second. Never had she heard that tone of voice before. Nevertheless toward her.

"John?"

Immediately, the tone turned toward worry and way more gentle. "Are you okay?"

It was enough to bring her back to a living situation. "Yes, yeah... listen, I am not supposed to tell you but-"

"If it's something that could put you in danger, don't." 

"They're moving me." She could almost hear him frown at her answer. "Safe house. For a long time... I don't want to."

"It's safer."

"I don't-" She felt like a little girl that couldn't go to Disney world. "I don't want to be alone... I'm scared."

"It'll be fine."

She wanted to throw her phone. For once, she wanted to see him like she did in her plane dream. Human more than machine. "Whatever." She hung up with tears in her eyes.

Anyway, tomorrow she would be "safe" as they said.

Away.

 

Maybe she could be herself again...

~***~ 

The silver lining of her condition was that her arms hurt more than her ego now. 

A week had passed. Alone with Gina, the sweet grandmother that she helped out. From the little she had learnt, her grandson came to help out twice per month, for the rest of the time, it was friends or family. She had had a maid, even, for a time. Now, the new girl had taken over almost everything at the salary of a roof, a bed and glorious Italian homemade meals. Gina was small, but strong. She took care of feeding the animals and tending to her garden, leaving the rest to her new worker. A man, her nephew, came by sometimes to help with the heavy lifting that was required and to work the fields. Neighbours were also coming over to offer various help.

Communication was an issue since Italian was far from being a language she was fluent in, but some words sounded close enough to English to avoid being entirely lost. Especially after a week. She could understand simple demands and sign language did the rest. 

It was hard to know if she liked or hated it. On one hand she was finally out of the mess that she had ended up in, her minor wounds had faded to subtle pink scars, the fresh air was doing wonder to her health and skin... On the other, she had never felt so lost and alone before. So disconnected from who she was, away from family and friends.

It's on the third day that she met Francesco, a man a year or two younger than her that had come by to lend a hand to Gina. He seemed uneasy about the newcomer at first, but quickly acclimated and started helping her with communication with his English. It was good to talk to someone after so long.

What she preferred was caring for the horses. After one month taking care of them, which included the occasional riding, she had a good idea of which was the most troublesome. Riding was therapeutical. It kept Larry's face away. The scar itched less when her hair was in the wind.

It was better than what she imagined, worse too.

 

Until Francesco broke his ankle.

~***~ 

The rain was coming down in thick curtains, turning the soil into mud. Walking was hard and bringing back lost sheeps even more so. Her raincoat kept the water away, but did little to nothing to keep her warm. On the other hand, her boots were definitely not waterproof.

She could hear the frightened sheep cries over the storm, Francesco's back the only thing she could see as she followed him, boots sinking in the ground each step. The man had to pull her over rougher patches of land, grabbing her by the hand except for one wide hole where he grabbed her waist instead. A memory of John taking her out of Larry's torture room came to her mind. It was quickly shoved away as he put her down and kept walking, cursing the weather. Thunder rolled over the hills and lightning illuminated the scenery in random flashes. Her foot slipped on a rock and she ended up face first in the cold damp mud.

"Amelie?!" 

Francesco's voice was muffled by the ground and raging weather all around them. She managed to get to her feet before the man yanked her up, not wasting a second before walking again, holding fast to her forearm.

"I'm good!" She said over the storm, wiping some mud away from her eyes with her sleeves. "I'm fine!" 

"We're almost there, when I ask, give me the rope!"

She nodded as another lightning bolt hit nearby. The few trees were taking the hits, but for every nearby strike, her heart crawled up her throat. Her lungs were burning by the time they found the last stray sheep and she was absolutely drenched from the waist down. Her hands were raw from holding the rope that kept the panicked beasts. She knew how sore she would be come the morning and crossed her fingers not to get sick. 

 

Francesco disappeared from her field of vision for the fourth time. A huff escaped her before she quickened her pace. Raindrops kept sliding into her eyes and it took her a minute to finally find him again, at the bottom of a partially-hidden hole.

“Francesco?”

A string of curses escaped him as he held his ankle, his own rope loosely passed around his wrist at the brink of letting the animals go. The doctor frowned and tanked everything for the nearby stump where she could tie her own terrified sheep to. His own were tied up too before they could flee and she carefully slid down the slight edge to kneel at his side. 

“Francesco are you okay?”

He only groaned as an answer.

“Let me look at it.”

When he stayed curled on himself, she took the matter in her own hands by pulling his away. The light was too scarce to properly see any coloring as she peeled his damp sock away, but the swelling was already visible. They needed a better place to treat it. Standing up, she made her way to a nearby tree and snapped tree similar pieces and walked back, still careful about the slippery mud. Fishing out a rope in her medic pocket and ignoring Francesco’s screams, she made him the best still she could do in their situation.

She helped him to his feet and up the edge to the tree where she gathered the cattle. The way back was even worse than she thought it could be. Many times her feet slipped. Twice she had to run to the runaway sheep after letting go of one of the rope, leaving the other one to Francesco as he leaned against a nearby tree, rock or hill. She stopped counting the number of time a sheep yanked her too strong or too fast, making her slam face-first in the mud.

 

When they finally passed the house’s fence, her legs were burning. She placed Francesco against the house wall, hidden from the pouring rain, and brought back the animals herself. The man was then brought inside and left to Gina’s care while she used another bathroom for a warm shower. Her many scratches burnt as well as some of her stitches. Blood swirled with dirt down the drain as she couldn’t look at her hands. She already knew what she would find. Skin scratched raw.

She turned off the water, dried herself, dressed her new scratches and put on an oversized pull Gina had made for her at her request to cover her hands, and some warm sweatpants. The woman walked back downstairs to a worried Gina fussing around Fancesco. With gentleness, the doctor pushed the older woman to the side before placing the first-aid kit on the matress. The grandmother had stipped him to his underwears, washed him with a clothe and burried him under layers and layers of blankets. He was still shivering when she undid the stilt and cleaned his ankle before treating the best she could. He would have to go to the hospital, but at least she could make him more comfortable while the storm hit the windows relentlessly. An ambulance could get to the farm in an hour and a half on good days. Calling one now would be useless. 

She passed a hand on his forehead, making a face at his temperature. As she stood up and moving back, letting Gina go back to fussing, she touched her own forehead. Warm. Exercise and stress or a cold? It was too soon to say.

 

After a glass of water and an apple, she went to sleep, exhausted. She dreamt of family, friends and normality, and of a shadow that took it all away.

 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeere I aaaaaaaaam agaaaaain
> 
> I said I wouldn't hiatus, but University finals happened, then a full-time job  
> But luckily, John Wick 3 also happened yesterday to finally give me the final nudge to take it up again
> 
> It went a bit off-tracks, but John will be there soon!
> 
> I might use Parabellum's storyline later, but for the moment, I need to finish that weird safe-house arc! This is also not the end of Cassian here)
> 
> I hope y'all like this chapter even if it's really different from anything John Wick-y


	12. Roman Teaching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small edit
> 
> Someone pointed out that I had misspelled John for Jon many many times and I realised it too... Guess that's what happens when the GOT final is watched the same day as Parabellum and John Wick and Jon Snow are your fav characters
> 
> It has been fixed, thank you!

When Gina came to wake her up, she knew she was screwed. The bed was disgustingly warm and sweaty and hair were stuck to her face. Focusing was so hard to do with the pounding in her head. The old woman did her best to make her drink, but after almost drowning on the liquid, she left to find a straw.

She saw Tina sitting by her bedside. When the doctor blinked, she vanished. She was delusional now. Great. She really was dehydrated which was ironic with the rain shower she was in a few hours before.

Lost in what felt like cotton, her mind could not help but wonder about everything that had happened again. Before John, before Tina, before Ro, before Larry, before Winston… When her life was still about a coffee shop and car troubles, when opening the shop on a rainy day and dropping the key twice was the worst that could happen. When helping a stranger didn’t end up with kidnapping and torture.

Her thoughts kept moving around and fluctuating with her fever.

She fell asleep before Gina even had time to come back. 

~***~ 

The following hours or days, it was hard to count with the violence of the sickness, she could only remember thin stripes of consciousness. 

Drinking ice-cold water, eating soup that felt like it was burning, Francesco thanking her as he pressed wet compress on her sweating forehead. Familiar and unfamiliar voices. Neighbours, Gina, Fancesco, one that sounded like Winston, another like Tina, her mother, her friends… Every voice twisted and turned, talking about eating, hospital, problems, roads, fevers.

She awoke one evening, groggy and weak. Her throat was killing her as did the rest of her body. By her side was John, a book on his laps as he looked up to her. It was the fifth time she saw him, her imagination preferring him to others apparently. This time, he had no blood on his suit nor a faceless-woman clinging to him. He was simply himself, only the clothes were wrong. She missed the suit.

Her name fell from his lips, gentle. She smiled. His voice was always so soothing to her. A hand squeezed hers as he got closer, sitting on the edge of the bed to face her better.

“Hi John.” She said softly, voice cracking from her current state. “You’re okay?" 

“As long as you are.”

As usual, too smooth to be John. Delusions were sadly feeling more and more real, but John was as smooth as crunchy peanut butter. An easy tell.

“How is John?” She asked, squeezing the calloused hand back. “How is he?”

“Okay. You need your medicine.”

“I can’t reach them. I need to wait for someone to give them to me.”

 

He answered with a smile, subtle but there. That fake John was starting to creep her out. His hand reached out and came back with her pill bottle. Two fell in his hand and he placed them in her own. On automatism, she brought them to her mouth and swallowed them with the water he also gave her.

“Thank you.” She whispered to the mirage as she closed her eyes. “I missed you. I was so scared in the storm... Of Larry-”

“Go to sleep.”

“You’ll stay a bit?” A simple hum answered her as she started to feel heavier. “Thank you, John. You’re the best.”

“Take care.” Answered Fake-John, his voice closer. Something soft pressed on her burning forehead. “You have to.”

Darkness closed over her again and soon, she was back to being unconscious.

~***~

When she opened her eyes again, it was the morning and birds were singing outside. The cushion clouding her mind had receded as well as the headache. Her forehead didn’t feel as warm either. Her feet hit the cold wooden floor as she sat up slowly, listening to her body to find the best way to treat herself. The pills were still on the nearby dresser and she only had to reach a bit to be able to take one.

Carefully, she stood. Her hand grabbed the furniture for support just in case as she put on fresher clothes. She still needed to clean herself, but checking on Francesco seemed way more urgent. As she neared the stairs, voices reached her ears. A deep conversation in Italian was happening between Gina, Francesco and a man, something was familiar about it, probably one of the neighbour.

She could only catch a few words, barely enough to go by. Time, food, care, hospital… She turned the corner and froze in place.

 

John. 

John wearing jeans and a white t-shirt and a plaid vest. John with a bun. John looking very, very good.

 

“Amelie! You should be in bed!” Exclaimed Francesco as he rushed to her, slowed down by his plastered leg.

“You shouldn’t be-” She started before forcefully looking to the Italian man instead. “-walking!” 

“You almost went to the hospital because of the fever, we had to call in a doctor that was passing around!” He turned to John with a hand gesture. “This is Dr. Jones, he arrived yesterday.” 

She didn’t know what to do as John stood up and walked to her, towering over with his height. As she opened her mouth, his hand went to her forehead, stopping her short. He said something to the two others that both smiled. Francesco turned back to her as the hand left her forehead.

 

“He said your fever left. You’ll be back on your feet in a matter of days!”

“I… Am… On my feet.” She countered dumbly, still staring at the dark haired-man.

John said something else before walking to the living room. She finally looked back to her patient.

“He said he want to check on you, he went to get his ‘arsenal’. I need to chat with Gina about the workload, call if you need anything or translation.”

 

With a friendly tap on her shoulder, he jumped his way to his clutches before leaving the room with Gina. When the front door closed behind them, she sprinted to the living room where John had disappeared as if he would have vanished.

He barely had time to straighten up before her arms were tight around his neck. He carefully returned the embrace and she could feel his muscles unclenching. Had she surprised him that much? Her name was whispered next to her ear and she moved back, hands sliding down to grab the sleeves of his vest, unwilling to let him go.

“You’re here.” She breathed out, barely a whisper. “You’re really here.”

One of his hand freed itself from her grip to go to her face, a small frown on his face. “Are you hurt?”

She blinked and noticed the tears in her eyes. “I’m fine.”

 

He easily lifted her up when her legs gave out under her, walking her gently to the couch before sitting across her, still in reaching distance.

“How did you find me?” 

“Gina called Tina. I intercepted the call.”

“Oh… How?” 

He sighed, passing a hand on the back of his neck and cringing at the action.

“You’re hurt.” It wasn’t a question, and suddenly her state didn’t matter. In the back of her head, a small voice started yelling about all the wrong turns meeting him made her take. All the sleepless nights and nightmares it brought. How scared she had become of that version of herself.

“I had worse.”

“John-” 

“Don’t” His voice was cold, calculated.

She hadn’t heard it toward her in a long while and she pulled her hands to her knees. “Sorry.”

“I need to go.”

“Wha- Why? You just arrived!”

He stood up as she did the same, trying to block his way. “Move.”

“No.”

~***~

She reminded him of Helen. Standing tall and unmoving in front of him, eyes sending lightning bolts. She was insufferable, but seeing her burning up and delirious in that bed had cut him worse than he had planned. He had planned to check on her from the side, unseen. Just to be sure she was breathing. But after a few days without ever seeing her but only a worried man and old woman, he wondered if he had the wrong address.

Jon even went as far as to knock on their door to ask and the lie wrote itself as they asked if he was a doctor. Her pale silhouette shivering as she was buried under layers and layers of blankets.

The following night she had awoken and smiled. Whispering a “Hi Jon” that warmed yet broke his heart. 

The kiss he had placed upon her forehead had been a prayer.

 

_Please don’t take her too. Please let me be selfish just this once._

 

Now she was the one asking for him to stay. The irony wasn’t lost as he let out a deep sigh, trying to ignore how her eyes lit up. 

“You’re well now. They don’t need a doctor.”

“I’m a doctor.”

Gosh, why did she look so smug and why did he want to hold her so much.

“You know what I meant.”

“You know what  _I_ meant.”

He fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “I cannot stay. You’re safe here.”

“So are you.” 

How did he even manage to pass months around her? She was infuriating. 

“Listen, John… I’m sorry, but…” Her voice sounded remorseful. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

 

She let herself fall down in the couch and he stayed in place for a few seconds before sitting down.

“I knew who I was when I was a waitress, knew my friends, barely lied, knew the favourite coffee of Miss. Evans and always gave a bonus cookie to Mister Wassim for his kids… And now I am on the run, my flat burnt down, I can’t see my dog for I don’t know how long and can’t go outside in the fear someone will want my head for profits…” 

 

That sounded way too close to home. She just needed to add that someone in her family died recently and it would be like looking into a mirror. Well, a mirror without blood on his hands.

“And I lie, and lie, and lie and don’t regret it as much as I should. I always wanted to help people but ended up helping the freaking murderers for dirty money- I arrived in Rome and felt like my Continental room was small! Small, John! I couldn’t have afforded on with my old month-long salary! And now I have, well, had dozens of coins that I never asked for and stand proof to my work in that fucking underground and-”

Saying her name stopped her cold in her tracks. Had he known about the state she was in, he would have come by sooner… Or not at all. She was making everything very confusing. 

“You need a way out. I’ll talk to Winston. He’ll arrange something.”

“I-” She looked down at her hands grasping the edge of her shirt. “I don’t know if I want to get out. I don’t know if I want to stay. I don’t know… I just don’t… It felt so easy before but now?”

She looked up, eyes confused beyond measure.

“Now you’re the only one that makes sense.”

~***~

She looked at John from her room’s window as he climbed into his car and drove away. Her face was still burning in embarrassment at her sudden words.

“ _You’re the only one that makes sense_. Wow. Is that your best, Dr. Fuckups?” She said to herself before burying her face in her arms. For all the things she could have told him she had to choose the most embarrassing one.

 _“There is one even more embarrassing”_ whispered some stupid voice at the back of her head, as she shoved it even more into the crook of her arm to hide her red face. 

She had been right about loosing her cool while around him, it was downright ridiculous. And he had been there, real, protective… Safe. And now he was gone again to “take care of things” while she was stuck in the Italian countryside with scars everywhere.

Gina and Francesco walked back into the house and she laid back into her warm covers. She had always assumed seeing him would answer questions about herself. In the end, she just had way more.

~***~

“Are you sure you’re-”

“Francesco, if you even think about mentioning my cold, I’ll strangle you with your own shirt. I got better two weeks ago, lay off.”

“I just thought it was… Odd… That you asked for shooting classes as well as self-defence ones…”

“I want to stay in shape.”

He snorted. “With the farm work you have that covered. You want to turn into James Bond?”

“Yes.” It was close enough. 

The Italian streets of the village were bursting with life. Tina had arranged for Gina to think she had a lung problem that made the city air dangerous. It explained how long it had taken them to let her roam. Everything was colorful and filled with exclamations of joy as merchant jested at each other. Kids were running with dogs in the street, carrying little flags or toys that caught in the air. 

The loud noises did not bother her one bit. She felt free, finally out of a cage she walked into herself. The shooting ranges were thirty minutes away, but the self-defence school was right in front of them. The red bricks almost entirely covered by vines felt incredibly old and wise. 

 

She walked in without hesitation, nodding in approval at the decorations and plants before stopping in front of the desk where a thin man was reading a book. Spotting her, he quickly hid the novel inside a drawer before looking at her with red cheeks. 

“I’d like to take the class.” She simply said, awaiting the sign that she needed a translator.

“Oh.” He answered before straightening up in his seat. “Yes. When? In the week I mean. What day?”

“What day and hour is offered?”

“Um…” He searched into his papers before holding out a sheet that she took with a simple ‘ _Grazie_ ’

She turned to her friend and showed her the schedule. “Where would be good? I didn’t memorize when there is people over so I can know Gina’s not alone?”

“Thursday evening.” He pointed. “Flora and her girlfriend comes by by that time for gossip. Since they don’t speak English, that’ll be the best time to avoid boredom.” 

“Maybe I want to learn Italian.”

“Oh, no. If you understand, it’s worse.” He smirked, ruffling her hair. “You absolutely do not want to understand them. Especially these days, they only talk about the tall dark and handsome doctor.”

She snorted before she could stop herself. Luckily, he didn’t know exactly why she was finding it extremely funny. After their chuckles died down, she signed and paid for the lesson, promising to come by two days later for her first class. 

 

The sun was doing its best to cook them alive. Francesco brought her to the best shop he knew for some almond gelato. She accepted without a second thought, eager to finally eat something cool. They shot the breeze until the sun hid under light clouds. At one point, he pointed out something on the corner of her mouth and wiped it out like any romance movie would. He apologized, flushed, and she chuckled at his awkwardness.

The way to the shooting ground was through a dirt road that seemed determined to make her hit the window. Before signing, a woman asked her for a tryout with a simple pistol. The seven try shots were horrible and only one hit the edge of the target, but it didn’t stop the instructor from being impressed at her reload. Something Jon had taught her when she told him she wanted to be able to help but avoid shooting. Thinking about it, someone else that knew how to reload was pretty useless for a man that could do it and immediately kill someone in less than a second.

She did the same as she did with the self-defence class and showed the schedule to Fancesco. He pointed out Mondays and she agreed. Gina never wanted anyone else but the gardener and herself on Garden Mondays. It made sense to leave during that “special” time of hers. 

On the way back, they talked about movies and music, her dog that she missed and her friends that she had left on the other side of the ocean. She felt good, at peace, ready to step into that new routine by choice this time.

 

She could not go back to her old self, but when she would walk back into the underworld, she would be ready.

~***~ 

She had never been proud of her health. Always having the stamina of a goldfish did not help. High school had ruined doing sports for fun a long time ago. But apparently, cleaning a farm and taking care of lands for weeks had done wonder. On the second week of her self-defence class, she was almost the last of the group to go down in exhaustion. The trainer was kind and proud of her for staying in the Thursday class despite being its only women student. Most of the men were in their early twenties, but John’s small training acted as the best element of surprise as no one expected the woman in her mid-thirties to get out of a choke-hold this quickly.

She was currently passing from one opponent to the next, merging her lessons with John's. Keep your stance lower for this, raise your hand higher for this, twist once instead of twice…

A slow punch was aimed her way and she ducked, pushing the arm out of her way. 

“Don’t forget to use his movement, Amelie.” Said the instructor from the side. “Pull him where he is aiming.” 

The doctor nodded as she dodged a second attack and pulled him away as told. The fight was choreographed, but it didn’t stop her from slipping and falling down. Her group immediately stopped as the sweating men helped the woman to her feet and asked for her wellbeing in broken English. She reassured them with a simple hand gesture as she dusted herself.

 

"Amelie, may I talk to you for a minute?” 

She walked to the coach as her partners resumed the choreography rougher than they did with her around. The woman almost wished she could wear a tank top and show her scars to them to make them fight her for real. She had seen so much worse already. 

“What is it, coach?”

“Well, I have a simple question. I hope you won’t despite me for it.” 

She frowned as he reached into his pocked and felt herself turn pale when she recognised the gold coin. The careful training, she had gone trough to hide her emotions was completely useless. She had grown too comfortable.

The man only sighed before putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine, _Bella_ , I will not tell, but what I will do is put you in another class. With another teacher. He will do better. He might be more expensive.” 

With clenched teeth, the doctor walked to her purse and got a gold coin from a hidden pocket of her wallet. She walked back and handed it to him.

He smiled at the action. “A pleasure. Do take the red door down the corridor. Please do come back next week.”

 

She grabbed her bag, towel and water bottle before making her way to the back. She passed the door to find a duo effectively kicking each other’s asses with grace but seemingly no mercy. 

“ _Bella_ , welcome.”

The doctor turned toward the owner of the soft voice. A tanned man with frizzy dark hair and a shark smile. He was wearing an impeccable burgundy suit and recently waxed leather shoes. He was the picture of wealth and style. 

“Are you lost?”

“Not yet.” She snapped back, placing her things in a nearby bench and taking a sip from her water bottle. She was back inside the thing she was supposed to have left. What would happen would follow her own rules. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

“But of course.” He walked up to her before grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. She fought back her uncomfort at the action. “The name’s Angelo D’Antonio, a pleasure” 

“Amelie. Just visiting.”

“If you’re here, you’re not. Please, do follow me to the lockers.” He offered his arm, but seeing her eye it with a blank face, lowered it and started walking. “What skills do you seek here?”

“Self-defence.”

He chuckled. “A dangerous thing to say in these parts, but I enjoy your honesty. I wish my cousin had given it a try.”

“He’s dead?”

“He stabbed _El Spectro_ in the back after setting him upon his sister. Neither survived and I got a promotion. Please do leave your things here, I’ll get ready. Try the 12.”

 

He left her confused and alone in the locker room that stank like money. Golden gravures, intricate lights, mirrors, glass, worked metal, marble. Even the plants looked like they were watered with gold. Her frayed towel looked so out of place she almost felt embarrassed. Opening a random locker, she found a recently washed sport shit and leggings. Closing the door, she spotted the number 6 graved into the frame.

The closet number 12 had a long-sleeved sport top as well as similar leggings to the other one saw before. She put it on, spotting a black towel embroiled with gold hanging in the back.

_D’Antonio’s Suo Anello_

Her bag was shoved into the locker and she turned in time to see Angelo step back into the room clad in the opposite of her own suit. His uniform was white where hers was black, with some gold edges and red lines highlighting the side seams. His was barefoot as she was.

“The uniform suits you well, _Bella_. Follow me.”

 

They climbed a set of stairs and arrived in a tastefully lit room with stained glass windows. Black mats covered the center of the room and Angelo stepped on it before turning to face her.

“So. Let’s see where you stand.”

“I am working on self-defence, not attacks.” She mumbled, placing bottle and towel on a nearby chair.

“As you wish.”

In a blink, he was upon her. She ducked and stumbled back as the sole of his feet connected violently with her stomach. She rolled off the mats gasping for breath. She could taste bile at the back of her mouth as tears filled her eyes.

“My apologies, Bella. I am not used to… beginners.”

The woman could hear the smugness in his voice as she managed to get back to her feet. She walked back to the mats, holding her bruised ribs.

“I see. Let’s begin your training.”

 

This time, she ran to meet his strikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who just sped-wrote the crap outta this chapter?
> 
> Me, it was me.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed John avoiding his feeling because that was THE PLAN!  
> Dear doctor is willing to freaking stop being passive.
> 
> Next Chapter, she starts kicking asses... or will she?


	13. I won't back down

“Left! Down! Come on, I know you’re better than that!” 

“I’m 34!”

“And I am 40 and _Los Spectros_ is 45. That is no excuse. Again!”

Dodging his first strike, she rolled out of his way before trying to swipe his legs. Jumping out of range, he answered with a kick that scratched the side of her face. With a lucky strike, she managed to swipe him down and get back up. She blocked his two next punches before being kicked down again, blood in her mouth. 

“God fucki-”

“Again.”

With all she could, she stood back up, facing him with her fists raised. Again and again, week after week. At first for her own ego, then for her dog, her friends, her family, Tina and Winston, John… By the time her arms were shaking to get up three times per week, she was fighting for herself.

 

“We’re done for today, go take a shower, I’ll see you in two days. Don’t be late.” 

Used to Angelo’s coldness after her training, she simply nodded his way and walked back to the lockers, towel around her neck. She let her mind wander as hot water steamed down over her bruised and scarred skin. Her body was nothing like the one of the scared girl that wondered when would be her next shift at the coffee shop. Nothing like the confused woman that had found a new happiness in the caring of a broken man. Nothing like the whimpering body bound to a celling as a madman cut into her even more each second. She let the dust drip down the drain alongside her troubles and worries.

The mirror showed her the picture of a woman she felt proud of. Standing tall and knowing where she was going. Strength in her eyes, gift from the many people that crossed her path. She couldn’t be John. She would never be. But she did not need a shield anymore. She could be a sword.

She only needed a small dab of concealer to hide the bruise on her temple before walking out into the Italian streets. Merging into the crowd of civilians, unknown, unseen.

Free.

 

Angelo had mentioned that she was a quick learner and she could see it for herself. With now 21 hours a week of training, she was already stronger and quicker, able to hit her opponent. She even managed to get a few good hits on Angelo, but it only strived him to fight harder, change technique, strike to make her fall, strike to take away her breath, strike to knock her out. That wouldn’t be enough to save her life against someone like Tina or John, but maybe it could help her avoid abduction attempts in the future.

Her shooting classes were going as well as she could hope for. The bullets pierced closer to the bull’s eye every time and more often. Soon, she would need to do the same while moving. Waiting to aim wasn’t a luxury people of the underground could afford, neither were static targets. The doctor was not a trigger happy person. Taking out bullets was her job, not putting them in. But maybe, just maybe, she could learn how to perfectly aim at painful yet non lethal points. Something moved behind her after she shot down two of the paper silhouettes in three shots and she stilled.

“You’re doing better than last week!” Congratulated a young woman named Flora as she leaned on her broom. She was speaking in Italian, slowly, but with the doctor’s many excursions in the village, her many months in that place she never wanted to go to, ‘Amelie’ had learned a few things.

“Grazie.”

“You should drink some water, you know. You look exhausted.”

“Thank you but I’m good.” 

“As you wish.”

She nodded before finishing up. The gun was cleaned and put back to its place. She thanked the owner and got into the car Gina had offered her for the day. A small beige beetle with a bad attitude. It took a few tries to get her to start, but soon the reassuring rumbling of the engine filled the air. 

~***~

Italy, like it or not, was a very peaceful place. Vines seemed to cover every hills next to the dirt road, squeezing it between blankets of green. Winter had passed quickly, leaving spring to take control of the colors. Unused fields flourished with wildflowers and she couldn’t wait to get home and go for a ride. The horse probably would love the weather. She let her mind wonder toward that future ride that would clean her head and make her forget the feeling of her finger on the cold trigger. Forget the click that followed. The deafening bang that came while death pierced the air to kill paper.

A bump in the road bounced the groceries and the woman crossed her fingers that the eggs were safe. No matter how peaceful and relaxing her time in the country was, she missed her old life. Family dinners, friends. Now that she was passable at defending herself, going back to the city didn’t feel like such a nightmare.

A silhouette on the side of the road made her focus again. As she got closer, she sighed and stopped beside the man and leaned her arm on her lowered window. “Yes?” 

“Can’t I just catch a ride?” Smirked Fancesco, his bag casually placed on his left shoulder.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to hitchhike? You could meet murderous strangers.” 

He laughed and she smiled as she opened the door for him, placing the groceries on the back seat with a small egg-checkup.

 

“So!” He exclaimed as she started driving again. “What does a girl like you does on a road like this?”

“I’m the one that abducted you. I should be the ones that use creepy lines.” 

“Creepy?”

“Would you like a stranger ask you that in a bar?”

“Point taken.” Passing a hand in his hair, he smirked. “So, how was the market?”

“My charms have run out; I tragically cannot keep getting fancy sales on shampoo anymore.”

“How can you even survive?”

 

They kept their banter going until they reached the farm. It wasn’t really hard for her to know that Francesco found her interesting, or at least would very much like a date, but she had been clear about it as soon as she noticed the obvious signs. Not interested. She wouldn’t stay in Italy forever and bringing him back was an absolute no-no. Also, the interest wasn’t there, no matter how sweet he was.

When the motor stopped in front of Gina’s cottage, the man put a hand on her tight. She was about question him about the surprising action before she noticed him glaring through the window. A glance sufficed to spot two unknown sports cars in front of the Grain storage.

“Stay in the car-“

He wasn’t even done that the door was closed behind her and she grabbed the groceries.

“Amelie, I am serious.” The man pressed, getting out while sending nervous glances to the building. “This is a very bad moment. Get back in the car and go back to the village until I call you.”

“Oh, yes. Not sketchy at all.” The doctor said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I am definitely not just walking away if Gina or you are in trouble.” 

He grabbed her arm before she could get ahead. “Amelie. I am dead serious. We’ll manage better if I don’t have to worry about you the whole time.”

“That’s very sweet, Franc, but that’s a hard pass.” After holding his glaring for a few seconds, she added: “I am definitely worried about you two, don’t make it worse.”

With a sigh, he let her go. “Give me a minute to get something. Then I walk in before you.”

“Whatever you need, as long as you don’t try to keep me out again.”

 

He nodded and walked to the stables, opening the helmet chest and rummaging into it. When his hand came out of it, handgun was in it. He checked the ammunitions before nodding at her, eyes going back to the house. “Stay behind me.”

Holding the bags tighter, she nodded, silent as they both climbed the few stairs to the front door. The man took a deep breath and knocked. 

~***~ 

It was a tall man that opened the door, red of the face and built like a freezer. Tattoos covered his forearms, crawling until they were covered by his rolled sleeves. The clean clothes clashed with the rest of his rugged appearance.

Angelo’s training came into play immediately. A gun on his belt, the bump of a knife on his side, the flash of a leather belt, proof of a pistol under at least one of his arm. The edges of a bulletproof vest under his white button-up. Heavily armed, strong, but not dexterous. Agility and speed would be enough. Her gun was upstairs, out of reach for now. Maybe if she managed to steal one of his…

“Francesco.” He said with a thunderous voice. “Do give the gun before you come in.”

She saw her friend glance at her from the corner of her eyes, but kept the mask of fear and confusion on her face. Better play the scared little girl that she tried real hard to put away. 

“And you, little girl. What’s in your bag?”

“Groceries?”

Her answer was just shaky enough to give the impression of a terrified girl that tried to play strong. With the mountain’s smirk and quick change of focus, she knew it worked. For now, at least…

The duo was pulled inside after Francesco’s firearm was taken from his hand.

 

The intruders apparently weren’t there to make a scene as none of the furniture was thrown or turned around. They weren’t searching either since the pile of letters on the coffee table was the same as it was in the morning. That or they were really, really good. A woman was sitting across from Gina, one leg crossed over the other. Exquisitely dressed, she only showed mild interested at the doctor when she walked in before turning her attention back to Fancesco.

“Francesco, what a pleasant surprise. Why don’t you join us with your friend?”

“I have groceries.”

“Amelie, don’t talk.” Half-snapped to her, voice laced with worry. “Please.”

She nodded, sending glances toward the kitchen and tightening her hold on her bags.

“Let the little one do her chores, I need privacy with you two.” Sweetly said the woman with a sickening smile.

With a nod, the doctor made a beeline to the kitchen, sending worried glances to the old lady that never looked so angry, and the young man just sitting beside her. When Francesco’s brown eyes met hers, she scurried away.

 

A man placed himself in front of the kitchen door, looking with interest as she placed the content of her bags into various cupboards. Making a plan would be tricky with a horny man looking at her like she was a treat. Gina had hidden an old revolver under the sink, but if she shot now, her host would be in bigger danger than her. Knifes were out of the question without knowing the man’s skill level, and the element of surprise would be difficult to reach with his staring. Grateful for the new bottle of dish soap, she used the opportunity of being under the sink to grab the weapon and hide it in her now empty grocery bag. Clicking it open, she repressed a curse from flying out of her mouth at the sight of the empty barrel. Shit. Luckily, a very quick blind search made her reach the small box and shove it in her bag. Standing back up and closing the door, she faced the man. Who knew that crouching in a baggy over-sized overall could be attractive to a random goon keeping watch.

“I’m done.” She timidly said. “I-I need to got to the bathroom and use these…” Holding up the bag and letting her face turn red, she moved from one feet to the other.

A mocking chuckle left the man. “But of course. Wouldn’t want any blood on the carpet.”

She fought the urge to point out how much horrible it should be to actually fall on the ground while wearing jeans pants or how there wasn’t any carpeted floors in the house. The woman walked to the door, shying away from the man that kept following her. She closed and locked the bathroom door before he could step in. A few seconds passed before she was sure he would not force the door down.

Sitting on the edge of the bath, she took a few deep breaths. John’s voice came to mind.

 _“If you shake in fear of being slow, you will be slower. Steady your hands. Breath.”_  

Bullets were slid into the chambers as quietly as possible as she pulled the drawer with her foot. Two in, five to go. No matter how fast it went, time had seemed to slow down to a snail’s pace. Painful seconds ticked by as she filled her gun and hid the remaining ammos in a fold of her pocket. The gun was placed, cold, on her back, under the overalls. She sent a blessing to the shorts that she had put on to avoid chafing, not really trusting her underwear to hold up the surprisingly heavy weapon. 

“Little one. Are you done?”

“Y-Yes, one minute!” Ripping open a random pad, she rolled it in its packaging before shoving it in the trash. “I’m done!”

Standing up, she flushed the toilet and washed her hands, the weight of the firearm unsettling yet welcome. She opened the door and was walked back to the living room where still sat the trio, Gina and Francesco holding each other’s hand and looking livid.

 

“I forgot my manner, little one.” Smiled the fancy woman, standing up, ponytail whipping behind her. “My name is Maria. Such a pleasure to see another woman. A pity to learn that you are but a glorified slave.” 

“I-”

“Hush, I’ll get you out of that sad workload. What would you think about getting a better job?”

“It’s- It’s not a job. What’s happening? Who are you?” She could feel Francesco and Gina’s gaze on her.

Maria’s smile never faltered. “Dearest Gina here owe me some money, you see-”

“Her husband’s family did, no-”

The back handed slap on Francesco’s cheek seemed to echo in the room for ages. Gina only straightened up, squeezing the young man’s hand for support. He just looked down, in shame or rage the doctor couldn’t see from that angle. With clenched teeth, she turned toward Maria.

 

“Do that again and he looses his hand.”

Maria blinked at her, surprised of the sudden bite in her words.

“Amelia-” Tried to warn Gina before she was slapped too. 

The revolver wasn’t expected, neither was the shot, directly in the man’s hand. She kept her face emotionless not to tell how lucky that shot had been.

“I warned you. Get the fuck out of this house and you better not come back.” 

After a few seconds in total silence except from the swears of the poor goon, Maria threw her head back to laugh. It bloomed, showing her snow-white teeth as a lion bare its fangs. 

“Aren’t you the whole package? It is even sadder to see you stuck with these two helpless idiots. I had planned to take you as leverage, but maybe taking you under my wing would be even better.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Leave. Now.” 

“Dear Fabio, do take her toy away.”

Knowing what would follow, she twisted around, gun raised at the ready and fired, hitting his shoulder. Dropping the gun, she moved her weight to her right leg, grabbed the man’s wounded arm and twisted gravity to her will as Angelo had taught her. It’s with an ember of interest that Maria watched the small woman that had looked about to cry over simple matters only a few minutes before single-handedly throw one of the biggest man on the ground with enough violence to make some furniture shake.

The second man that tried to grab her got a finger in the eye, a bite on his arm, and a kick in his groin that made him bend in two. It was the third that grabbed her forearm and twisted it behind her back, finally holding her still.

Maria opened her mouth for a smart retort before turning pale.

 

Five shots rang.

 

The time it took for the doctor to free herself and throw herself to the ground, Maria was standing surrounded by the corpses of her men. Gina and Fancesco covering their head and holding each other tight.

“Maria. It’s been a while.”

“ _Los Spectros_ ”

From her spot on the floor, the doctor straightened up on her elbows to face the newcomer. “John, what the actual  _fuck?_ ”

~***~

Maria was the one sitting this time, her leg wasn’t casually folded but bent so her feet would both be on the ground. In a corner, the doctor was gently treating the ones that had been her hosts for months. Francesco couldn’t even look at her in the eyes anymore and Gina hadn’t said a word since she had gotten hit. Guess she had done the same as Wick had done to her. Hidden something rotten until it was too late and nothing could make it sweet. On the other side of the room was John, counting bullets the most intimidating way possible. His angry gaze passed from the Italian woman to the second one.

Finally, he walked to Maria. “Leave.”

She did not have to be asked twice and bolted for the door. The sound of an engine was heard right before the screeching of the tires.

 

John turned to the trio. “Ameli-”

“If you come in like this, you might as well just go all in and call me by my actual name.”

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, John. Like I always am after a certain time away from you.” It was unfair and she knew it. Who knew what would have happened if he hadn’t arrived? Death? Slavery? Torture again? “I find a life and you barge in and take it away and swoop me back into everything that hurts me and I can’t-”

Francesco was staring at her, so was Gina.

She stood up and walked to the door. “Follow me, John.” She went to the stables without checking if John was doing as she asked, stopping right in front of her favorite horse, Luna.

 

When she heard her name, her real name, she turned to face him. Back in the suit, hair a bit longer and unkempt, he still managed to look good… And a bit sheepish.

“You know what annoys me the most, John? Of the whole story? How easy it is to forgive you.” She kept going as he opened his mouth to speak. “I just look at you and suddenly is as if it was enough, some twisted schoolgirl that believed some popular guy’s attention was enough to live off of. It’s a stupid feeling, John.” She took a step toward him, then a second. He was still so far yet she didn’t get closer. “It hurts every time you leave, every time you come back, every time I see you and every time I don’t, and you did this to me. You let me care, you let me believe you would stay around, roommates or not, friends or not.” 

“I do not have a choice.”

“Neither did I.”

“You could have let me die.”

“Seriously, John?” 

“You could have closed the door the moment you learned who I was.” He answered, voice unbelievably soft, taking a step toward her.

“I thought you would have learned what kind of a person I am.” She whispered, looking down. “What kind of person I never wish… Wished to become.”

Another step and his shoes were in her sight, he could probably reach and touch her if he wanted to. “I would have left. Never come back. I still can.” 

Her eyes met his, she felt like hers showed that she could fall at any moment, his were honest, calm… ready. Ready to leave, ready to let her go. Ready to nod, to walk back to his car, to get behind the wheel and drive away. Ready to keep his life as it was before, to stay hunted until some trap got to him first, to disappear as he had come. In a second and without a trace.

 

Tears filled her own eyes, blurring the man she had raised up and followed, the man she had supported and despised and protected and fed and-

And  _loved_.

In her own way. As a roommate, as a friend, as a support, as a bodyguard… Maybe as each and every single one of these.

 

“Stay.” A whisper. “It’s a shitty idea but I want you to stay or at least take me with you back to New York. Please Jo-”

 

His hands were on her cheeks and his mouth was on hers.

 

_Stay._

 

She grabbed his suit in a rush, pouring everything she could right back at him. Annoyance mixing with care and friendship meeting anger.

 

_Please._

 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOP WOOP!
> 
> I don't know if it felt too rushed still, I just.... That happened?  
> The only problem is that, the second I started the next chapter, I realized I had no idea how to write Romance. Wish me luck!
> 
> I will go back to the "Every Friday" Schedule, as long as I manage to really write the next chapter despite the Ohmygoditssupposedtoberomanticwhatdoido


	14. Restful night

He did not want to let go. Did not want to move away.

Moving away, stopping kissing her, meant facing everything else. Seeing his ring on his finger, remembering Helen’s words, looking into another face that did not believe his curse would end their life. 

It also meant looking into her eyes and accepting what he had done, what he had let himself feel again. After all he had lost. Choosing to have something else to loose. It meant facing all the pain it would take to back away again, to hurt her yet again. Or even worse, accepting to take her with him, to do another round and try his luck to get back out a second time. 

But this time, she was in too. And taking them both out would be tempting fate.

He felt her hands about to snake around his neck and everything seemed to crumble.

He backed off almost as if he was burnt.

~***~

Her brain was tumbling in the wind somewhere and had only left her a few brain cells to pass the same realization over and over again.

_John is kissing me. John is kissing me. John is kissing me. John is kissing me._

 

And what a kiss it was.

It wasn’t a gentle pressure on her lips, a rose petal on the water. It wasn’t the kiss the prince gave in the fairy tales. It was hungry and emotional and raw. Teeth, tongue, lips, she could barely remember which ones were hers.

It felt like a hello and a goodbye all at once.

It felt like a yes and like a no. 

And then it stopped as quickly as it started, leaving her panting and lost, hands still half-way in the air. The ghost of lips on hers and of hands on her face. She finally focused on John that looked even worse. His eyes were wild and hurt, looking at her like he couldn’t believe what he had done. On that she felt the same.

 

“John.” She breathed out, embarrassed at the shake in her voice.

The moment she saw his eyes glance to the side, she launched herself, barely managing to catch his forearm as he attempted to leave. Again.

“John. No.” Since he stayed quiet, she kept going. “I- I have no idea what just happened, well, what it said or meant at least… But you cannot just- You can’t leave after that!” Her mind was still reeling to stay grounded, to understand, to remember. “I don’t care if you say it was a mistake or anger or a reflex but- You need to tell me.”

His brown eyes met hers again. They reminded her of the second time he had cooked for her and his eyes had lighted up for a few seconds before going back to himself. Hope, content…. Vulnerability.

“John… Please…”

“I can’t.” He sounded so defeated that she didn’t know what to do or say. “If I let you close, you’ll die. They won’t let me get out a second time.”

“John. I can help-“

“You cannot.”

“Then you don’t know me very well do you?”

 

Thought were flying free in her head and it was harder to catch them by the second. Everything was leaving until all that was left seemed to be that they just shared. The gentle slide of his knuckle on her cheek broke any semblance of sentence she had prepared. His eyes were not on her lips or her eyes, they seemed to scan her entire face, commit it to memory.

“People I care about don’t stay alive for long.”

“John-”

“Are you sure?” It didn’t sound like a question, more like a warning.

She let herself smile, wondering how much he had changed since she had come to Italy. She was a fighter, not a little frightened woman anymore. And he had lived in that world of his, hunted by every single assassin in the business.

“You know me; I can’t afford to get out without saving someone else along the way.”

 

This time, he simply pulled her into his arms. Protective. Warm. He didn’t have to ask for her to answer it as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, standing on her tip toes. They let themselves enjoy the moment, strip back to their beginning as unplanned roommates in a messy apartment. When they never really touched each other yet kept themselves in one piece.

“We’ll have to talk about that kiss someday, John.” She pointed out, glad of the cover her position gave her, hiding the red of her face from him.

He simply hummed and she smiled. 

Yes. This was enough after all.

~***~ 

As an apology and out of necessity, John helped her move and burry the corpses. Francesco came out with puffy red eyes to help the duo dig and to thank them for helping out. Again, he was simply unable to look at her in the eyes.

It’s with a heavy heart that she finished filling the last of the hole. A glance toward the house proved her that her friend had watched her all the while when she saw him move away to join Gina at the dinner table. A sign escaped the doctor for the fifth time since they had started.

“They will get over it.”

She turned to John, a hint of anger in her eyes. “That’s rich of you to say.” Her eyes moved back to the cottage, yearning. “I enjoyed my time with them. They were nice to me, patient… I took care of them too in some way. It will hurt to leave.”

“You want to stay.”

A smile. “I can’t. I miss my house and New York and my friends and family. I miss people being rushed and taxis almost running me over when I cross the street. But I will miss the horse rides and the smile of the young girl at the market as well as them both, no matter how much they hate me.”

“I don’t think they hate you.”

“Come on. Trust is won by drops and lost by litres. They will not trust me again, at least not before I leave for New York.”

He nodded this time, grabbing the tools to place them back by the shed. “You should go to sleep; we need to leave tomorrow.”

“Will you stay?”

“What?”

“With me. Not in that terribly uncomfortable chair of course. The bed they landed me is not really a double, but you’d have space.” Realising how her proposition could be heard as, she started fidgeting. “We’d have enough space to not even touch each other! I’m not- Sleep! Sleeping as in sleep- Not- Oh my lord.”

Her rambling made her unable to hear him as he got closer and she jumped when a hand fell on her shoulder. “It’s ok. I’ll be there.”

Letting out a relieved sigh, she nodded. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

 

When he turned his back and started walking away to the bag of guns they had looted from the goons, she wasn’t worried about him running away. He wouldn’t. Not this time. And if he did, she was willing to hunt him down as so many were already doing.

“Amelie? Shit- Sorry I know that’s not really your name but-”

She turned to face Francesco with a tired smile. “Hey. It’s ok, call me whatever you want.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, tomorrow. I did enough hurt here anyway.”

He was looking at her a was she wasn’t completely comfortable with. “It could have been worse… All I see is that you lied about your name and shot a man to help us out. That man was worse.” His eyes hardened. “He wasn’t a doctor; you were burning with fever you could have died!”

His outburst took her by surprise. “I am fine, the fever-”

He stepped into her personal space to take her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “You could have died! _Dios Mio, Amelia_! He could have murdered half a nation in cold blood I don’t think I would be as mad! Do you even know how you looked like? Half-dead on your bed? Calling out names no one knew and begging for forgiveness?” He kept going as she was about to answer. “And I don’t know who this Larry or Wagner are supposed to be, but I will kill them, for whatever they did that made you ask to-”

His shoulders slumped and his hands felt as they were only staying on her shoulders with gravity. She raised a hand to place it on his cheek, raising his face toward her. “Fancesco… I don’t remember what I said, but they are gone now. I lived a lot I wish I hadn’t. I saw a lot I probably shouldn’t have… But I’m better now. I pulled trough. I’m stronger than I ever was and-”

When his hands framed her face to make sure she would watch him, it wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. It almost hurt. 

“I’m not whatever he is or whatever you are. I barely know how to shoot a can or disarm someone. But what I know I am not is someone that can watch the woman he loves suffering and begging for someone to end her life while someone claim to be a doctor to stay by her side.” 

“Francesco I-”

“I know I can’t offer much but-”

“Francesco I can’t stay I-” 

“For me! For Gina! For Luna or the rabbits or sheep I don’t care, just stay!”

“I lied to you for months-”

“I don’t care!”

 

Panic was slowly filling her. Not that he would ever raise his hand on her, but the situation was getting out of hand really fast. She might have known he was harboring feelings towards her, but never imagined them to be this strong. Especially after she had shown her true self.

“Francesco.” She stated softly, holding his cheek again, this time more to make sure he wouldn’t try anything rash by holding him back. He looked like what she had felt only a few hours prior. When John was about to leave her again and asked her if she wanted him to. “Francesco, I consider you my friend. You helped me out, you cared, you still do and I can’t thank you enough, but I have to go home now. My family-”

“We could visit them! You don’t have to go back there, you’re happy here!”

“I’m lonely here, Fran-”

“I’m here! You don’t need to be alone…” He was subtly pulling her closer but she stood her ground and pushed him back a bit, more out of pity than anger. “I’m here for you Amelie.”

“You’re a friend, Franc. A very good friend, but I can’t leave my family alone, my friends alone. I’m a doctor and I want to go home.”

 

This time, he sighed. Her heartbeat quickened in fear when he moved closer, but relaxed as his lips touched her forehead.

“You know I love you.”

“You know I don’t love you that way.” 

“Yes…” 

“I’ll come visit.”

“You better. Gina will kill me if she learns I scared you away for good.”

“It takes a lot more to scare me.” 

“I know.”

“Also, Gina is way scarier than you.”

 

He chuckled, pulling her into a hug that she wholeheartedly answered in kind. It felt odd, this friendship. But no one could force romance, and being friends would be enough for him.

“I’ll miss you Amelie.” 

“I’ll miss you too, Fancesco.”

In the back, leaning against the stabbles’ wall, John watched them both. There was no jealousy in his heart, she wasn’t the kind to give her feelings out easily. Their embrace just made him sad somehow. He could see how much both of them hurt in similar way. Leaving each other.

He could relate.

He just did not know the last meeting was a goodbye beforehand.

~***~

“John, I swear to all that is holy, if you even think about putting that blanket and pillow on the chair or the floor, I will kick your ass so hard you’ll arrive to New York early.”

He wasn’t used to her holding her ground as she currently was. Hands on her hips in a too-big T-Shirt that barely covered her shorts – not that he would point it out – and her hair that had grown, tied in a messy bun for her nightly routine. She was fluming, and he knew that she wouldn’t bulge no matter what he would try.

“I won’t ask again. Put back the pillow and blanket and get into the damn bed.”

That had the merit of being clear. 

With a sigh, he put the couch cushion back in his place and the still folded blanket on the armrest. Turning to her he wondered when. When had she made him go back to his unburdened self. The John that went out for groceries and liked to read books and sit on a couch to drink coffee before the day started. The question remained as he slipped under the covers, at the side closest to the door, careful to stay as close as he comfortably could from the edge.

The mattress dipped and he heard her sigh contently.

“Goodnight John.”

After a small pause, he closed his eyes. He bid her goodnight the same as she did and fell into a restless sleep.

 

On her side, the doctor wasn’t sleeping, far from it. No matter what she tried, her closed eyelid apparently only had one movie in stock: Kiss land and what-the-heck-do-we-do-with-that-John. She became increasingly aware of his warmth that she could feel on her back. Of his smell that only contained a small lingering bit of his usual cologne. It was horribly distracting. While, a long time ago, she could move around a room without him even stopping snoring, she didn’t think getting out of that bed would go unnoticed. After her outburst, there was no way she would be allowed to sleep on the floor or the chair or even the uncomfortable half-a-place couch. She was stuck.

It did not help that the last time they had been in that situation, she had awoken, drooling on his chest, holding to him like a koala. Or maybe that was just her imagination running it worse than it had been. She just didn’t think that after his kiss, they would react the same if they woke up over each other… Okay… Mostly her over him.

Her feelings were not especially clear at the moment. She had barely gotten to know the man before Italy, and then hadn’t seen him in months while the entire world was trying to get his head. Then a small come and leave that did not really make her believe he cared much about her more than her passing being a hindrance, one less ally in an unforgiving situation.

But now? He had asked her if she wanted to stay with him. He had kissed her and it had been desperate, true.

And it was really messing her up. 

She reached for the alarm clock and turned it to check the time. Eleven PM. Gosh she was old… Old and stuck since turning around in bed was not an option for someone in her situation. Great. Bloody great. Maybe if she only managed to change her mind.

She ended up giving a disappointed sigh and turn around.

 

John’s reflex was all that stopped her from falling off the bed as she came nose-to-nose with the object of her thoughts.

“You can’t sleep.” He pointed out as she tried to calm her breathing.

“You kind of scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” 

Gosh he looked good. “No need to be.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. Now how the heck was she supposed to sleep since on of his arm was now swung over her waist, unmoved from his previous save. Slowly, she let herself remember her way here, to Rome, to the Continental, to Tina, to John. They would talk tomorrow. Now she needed sleep.

She scooted closer to him to enjoy the safe feeling he always gave her and closed her eyes.

“Goodnight John.”

He answered in kind with a soft voice and she fell asleep with a smile on her lips. 

~***~

“Tell me again why we have to go to the village?” Asked Fancesco from his spot next to Gina on the back seat. “Don’t you two have to leave as fast as you can?”

“I need to stop my memberships, Franc.” She answered, looking at the fields with nostalgia, trying to burn them into her memory. “I don’t plan on people coming to you two to ask why I didn’t pay the second payment or something.” 

“But why is he here too? You said he might be searched for.”

“John can take care of himself.” 

This time, only a sigh answered her. 

“Which one?” Asked John from behind the wheel, back into his farm-doctor ensemble with an added worn baseball cap and sunglasses.

“Just leave me at the other corner, I know the way.”

She was dropped by as asked and turned to the driver again, handing him a list and a card. “Here’s the groceries list, please to bring them both there and help them with the flour bag. I’ll join you there in an hour or less.”

“You’re sure?” He simply asked, taking the items trough the window.

“I’m a big girl, John. Anyway, I have high doubts about being hurt there. I have friends that I believe to be high-grade.”

 

On this, she turned around and started walking, hands in her pockets. The sound of the engine slowly moved away to mix with the others in the nearby street. Adjusting her bag, she started jogging. Better start her muscles before whatever Angelo would have prepared.

“Hey, you, _Bella_!” Called a man sitting on his porch. “Why don’t you come give me a kiss?”

She ignored the catcalling, keeping her steady rhythm. 

“ _Bella_ , come on!” Added another one, younger. “You don’t have any headphones on, don’t try to make us believe you can’t hear us!”

“Oh, no.” She finally answered without even slowing down or turning her head. “I though I was very clearly ignoring you. My bad.” 

The following shocked silence was worth more money that she could make. The following footsteps were not as welcomed. A hand closed itself on her shoulder and she began. Groin, plexus, throat. Bent, Empty, Close. The old man fell on the sidewalk and she looked for the second opponent. Not one, they were three. Four if she counted the wheezing form at her feet. The street was too wide, too well-known for them. She ran.

The small jog had done its job and the sprint wasn’t too damaging. She could see the cross of the church right beside Angelo’s place. She wouldn’t make it fast enough. Oh well- 

John turned the corner on foot, almost making her stop in shock. But she knew that stance. She had seen Angelo do it. Grabbing his extended hand, she felt him twist on himself to improve her momentum.

When the sole of her shoe connected with the closest man, his jaw cracked soundly. The high kick usually gave her trouble, especially to end up on her feet. John’s hand on her waist annulled the problem in its entirety. A punch on the second man’s ear brought her back to herself as she crouched down to sweep the last man’s feet, a smile making its way to her face as he fell on his back loudly. There was no doubt John could have done all of it without her, but him letting her fight by his side was a gift she hadn’t foreseen. She felt… Equal. 

“You know Angelo.” He pointed out.

“Yeah. I need to get to his place to say I’m leaving… He will be disappointed.”

“Maybe.”

 

The duo went on their way, leaving the four bruised men on the ground, shocked, and very, very confused.

 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my lord am I not satisfied with this chapter...
> 
> I feel like I rushed it and couldn't find the story but here it is!
> 
> A small announcement, I'll keep going, maybe update this one again (and better) next Friday (or a new chapter, we'll see) and then the update will be on Thursday since on the 20, I fly to France! I'll be there a month and see if I can keep adding chapters. I probably will have to go once-per-two-weeks since, well, I'm going to my sister's wedding.
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos, they make me so SO HAPPY!!!
> 
> Again, sorry if this chapter is all over the place, I want to work on it again, but I never really wrote battle or romance so I'm doing my best to find some kind of stable writing.
> 
> See you on next Friday!


	15. Meet and greet

It was dark inside the training pit.

 

Only the usual stained glass let some shy and colorful ray of light into the room, but the subtle overhead lights were turned off. She stepped in as usual, clad into her uniform that bared a few stitches by now. The inside of the uniform could stop the training blades, but the outside design was made to see mistakes, to learn. A few more scratches on her left knee than her right told her she was relying too much on her right leg which made her predicable. A patched gap on her right shoulder to show the amount of hits her coach could get on her from her bad defense form. 

She would ask to keep it if he agreed. It was a great reminder and a passable armour, never as good as one comfortable hoodie she had gotten at her birthday months ago. Assassins could actually do other things than bulletproof suits and cocktail dresses.

 

“Amelie. Greetings.”

The woman turned around to face the one she had been expecting. He wasn’t wearing his usual uniform, this time, he looked positively deadly. Stylish and deadly. Twin guns in his hands, knifes and ammunition on his belt, one expensive-looking blade between his shoulder blades, black finger-less gloves.

“Angelo? What kind of-”

“Training is cancelled for today I’m afraid.”

She sighed. “Is it because of John?”

His usual countenance fell for a second. “You did not seem like the kind of person to know that peculiar name.”

“John is a common name. Wick isn’t.”

His posture turned a tad hostile “Amelia, what is your relationship with John Wick?”

“Colleague. Roommate for a time. On Facebook we would be labelled as ‘complicated’.” She passed a hand in her hair. “Angelo, can we just talk for now? You know I’m not as skilled a fighter as you or John, but I also know your kind of care about me in your weird beat-me-up way. I would like to talk, and if you need to see where John is, just say the word. He won’t attack you as long as you do the same and-”

“His head is worth over 50Milions now, _Bella_.”

“Yes. And what will you do with that money? You’re already doing your dream job, you’re far from living in the streets… Except if you mean to pay for student loans, I don’t see what will happen with it.”

“I don’t think you understand, _Bella_.” The endearing term sounded hollow this time. “But that man murdered my cousins.”

“From what I heard, he followed one rule and got revenge.” She answered. Calm. “I know what a marker is. You can’t truly hold him responsible for Gianna. And Santino burned his house and had the city searching for him, hunting for him. Would you have stopped and agreed to the terms? Waited for death to come?”

 

She could see his jaw twitch and dropped the tension that had crawled into her body since the fight a few minutes prior. Her mask fell so the kindness in her eyes was visible.

“You lost family by his hands. At this point, who didn’t? I know you lot keep grudges for awful lengths of time, but- Could you let this one go? This one time? For me?”

His eyes met hers, calculating, searching, digging. She held her grounds despite everything. He needed that time and she would give it to him.

It was after long minutes that he lowered his head with a defeated sigh. He turned on his heels, unloading his many weapons on his usual bench. “Get him in.”

She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her with his back turned, and walked to the locker room’s door. Four knocks. Turning around and walking back to the matted floors, she could hear the second pair of steps behind her.

“ _Los Spectros_.” Said Angelo without turning around. “We meet again.”

“Angelo.” He answered as a greeting.

The doctor let out a long sigh. She was a doctor, not a psychologist, they would have to deal with their own problems from now on. “So. I need to get back to New York. I need to cancel my membership.”

“Then you must beat me in a fight.”

A pause.

“You’re joking.”

“No.” 

And as simply as that, he charged.

 

“Angelo I swear-” Was all she could exclaim before he was on her with punches and kicks.

She took a few hits before his teachings came back to her and she focused again. Eyes don’t lie, the body does. As soon as she started dodging, he slightly shifted his balance and, recognising the technique, she moved back, barely avoiding the high kick. The run and the small fight had wonderfully warmed her muscle and she could already feel her future self thanking her for it. The bruises would hurt. But they would heal.

A well-placed push made her trip and fall down. She barely had time to roll before a kick that would have definitely broke her rib hit the ground. Another roll and a kick up gave her enough time to get back to her feet, but the motion gave the Italian time to land a solid punch on the side of her head and she fell.

 

The world was blinking for a few moments when she saw John run towards her, then both men rolling on the ground, still only using fists. She groaned.

“I’m good.” The words came out a little slurred and she felt blood on her tongue, her lip was split. “Guys stop that.”

Focus came back after a few seconds and she simply went to the spot they were now at, sliding between the two as soon as an opening appeared.

“Get out the way, _Bella_.” Spit Angelo, wiping some blood from his nose.

“No. Come on I came by to learn, I get my ass kicked once and it appears as a green light to start a completely useless fight?” The men opened their mouth but she wouldn’t have it. They acted like children, they would be treated as such. “John, go sit down. Angelo, I think I was clear. I understand what you lost, but if it’s going to be like that, have my fucking money but I’ll be leaving. What do you say?”

He replaced his suit and sneered at John that had indeed went to her bench to check the state of his fingers. “I see you have him on a leash.”

“Oh, sadly no, if he wants, he’ll kill you whenever I ask him to or not, but you know what? At least he has the mind to know I’m right.” She snapped back. “You taught me a lot of things, and one of them was to be reasonable. Choose battles and when you can’t, try to reason. So fucking reason already. John Wick is right there. I asked you not to attack him. Now if you so want to keep going, I can’t stop you, but you know he will.”

 

There was a silence, tense. Understandably so. Angelo’s jaw clenched for a second before he took a deep breath. “Where were we?”

“Me, on my way to kick your ass.” 

“Cute.”

 

~***~

 

“So, tell me, John. How is business?”

“Rough.”

“Understandable. Learnt your lesson?”

“Never give your marker to a D’Antonio.”

“To Santino would have been more accurate. He always was a power-hungry idiot. Same thing with Gianna, but at least she could keep it together.” The man’s voice turned mournful, “She did not deserve death that young.”

“She did not.” 

“I heard she sli-” 

“She went out on her terms. I finished the job.”

“Thank you.” 

John raised his head to look at the other man. “Why?”

“Because you let her.” Angelo was looking out the window, his cappuccino in hand that trembled slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was straining over keeping his emotions hidden. “You let her choose. Until the end.”

 

Silence fell again, quieter somehow, more peaceful. They would not fight again. Not today at least. 

John let his mind wander again, to his friend, his roommate, his doctor… He did not really know what was the best term by now. Colleague? Bodyguard? More than a friend? Family? In a way, he guessed she was. Someone he wanted to take care of and check on once in a while. Maybe stick with as he had done with Helen… 

He shook his head.

No.

She wasn’t like that. The kiss had been adrenaline and worry, nothing else.

_Nothing else._ Mocked his heart. _Was that really nothing?_  

“John, get you throw me my phone please?”

_Talking about the wolf…_

 

He nodded and bent down to grab the desired object, holding it out to her as soon as she came closer. Their fingers touched as he passed it over.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” 

She smiled before checking the screen and he turned back to a very surprised Angelo.

“I have to call Fancesco, give me a minute.” The woman exclaimed, already pressing the call button and putting it to her ear.

“Sure, Bella.” Answered the man without taking his eyes off John. “You do just that." 

She hadn’t even taken two steps before her face lightened up. “Hey, Franc! Yes, sorry I didn’t call you sooner.”

 

Her voice became more of a background noise than anything as she found herself in a far corner of the room. Angelo turned his whole body toward John and leaned over, still out of arm’s reach, but the whole action felt as he had filled John’s personal space.

“What?”

“Oooooh you got it bad.” He said, half a laugh. “That is so very interesting, I think I never- No. I never saw you like this. It’s… Odd.”

Only a glare answered him.

“You see, John. I didn’t have the privilege of seeing you the year before you retired. I had only heard rumors, legends. Stories of the monster who turned into a man because he met a beauty. It seems that I will be one of the lucky few to watch you rise from hell again because an angel caught your attention.”

“You better stop.” Said John. Calm.

 

Angelo prided himself to be a man that listened and learned. When he heard the thinly veiled threat, he backed off and took a sip from his glass. The woman came back to their level, placing her phone in her pocket. She had taken a shower a few minutes before and despite her reddening cheek from the punch, she looked even better. Or maybe that was just because of what Angelo had said. All that talk about Helen and getting out again. She could. He wouldn’t be able to.

“You are a peculiar thing.” Started Angelo with his eyes on the doctor, ignoring John’s glare.

“Um… Ok? How so?” 

“Almost a year ago, I made a promise to myself. I promised that, the next time I would see Los Spectros, I would kill him.”

John could feel her confused glances toward him without even taking his focus off the Italian in the burgundy suit.

“And there you came, almost useless in a fight, and made me care.” He chuckled, bringing his cup to his lips again. “About you, not him of course. But you just are… Something new I guess. Something, from what I learned, I am not the only one protecting.”  
  
“Wait. Protecting? I’m undercover. I’ve been for months, I-”

“Are doing a poor job of it. Granted Mario did a poor job with subtlety when he sent you to me, but you could have feigned ignorance or, even better, not used the back door every time you came in after.”

“It’s closer…” She lamely attempted, face pale in understanding. She had blown her whole cover in a single day after all.

“People came to investigate you, you know. The _Bella Amelia_ they called you. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“When? I don’t- I didn’t see anyone.”

“I had a chat with those who came from you. I don’t like people trying to nose around my pupils, you see. I have a reputation to uphold.”

This time, it was John that leaned a bit. “How many?”

“So far, seven. Each a little more professional than the last. It has been a while, maybe the next ones were smart enough not to ask a man about his clients.

“We need to leave.” John stated, standing up. “Now.”

“Is there any coming?” Wondered the woman, grabbing her bag as he handed it to her. “You think Franc and Gina are in trouble?”

“We stayed here long enough.”

“John is right. I cannot hide you much longer, especially since Wick’s head is on everyone’s wishing list. It was a pleasure to meet and train you, I do wish our paths will cross again _Amelie_.”

She barely had time to thank him before they rushed out into the streets and into an ambush.

 

~***~

 

The goons, three of them whom she recognised from the alley around an hour ago, were not expecting them to be ready.

They weren’t.

But John had an incredible talent at being efficient.

It took only a few seconds and John had knocked out two of the dozen, hid them behind a trash container and gave her a gun that he had stolen on one of the men. He obviously knew about her shooting classes by now, but it didn’t mean the heavy killing machine was any nicer to have trust into your hands. He turned toward her and made a simple head move toward the left before placing himself toward the right.

“John I can’t shoot!”

“You can.”

“I can’t  _aim_!”

“Just attract their attention.”

“I don’t _want_ their attention! John- John!”

 

And here he went. She had no choice but to aim and shoot as wildly as she could. The adrenaline made her shaky, and she had no plan to accidently kill anyone today. Or any other day to be honest. She was quite certain a kill-free life would be a good one. Her goal was to learn how to wound just in case, not to be on the field. She made a few warning shots after carefully aiming to scare. A pipe over one’s head, the ground next to another’s feet, one guy’s arm, that last one had been a mistake, but it had only caught muscles

Her eye caught some movement on the left which made her turn pale. Sniper. She didn’t fear as much for herself as she did for John. Yelling would reveal her position that was still unclear in the constant echo of the fired guns. It felt horrible, no matter how many times she had ended up in similar situations. She had no choice. Her hands shook slightly as she took a deep breath, hoping for it to be enough. The bang felt even louder than the previous ones, Deafening. Final. 

The man on the roof let out a yell of pain, dropped his gun over the edge and rolled out of her view. Good.

“Grab the girl!”

Less good.

 

She darted between two trash cans and went very, very still. A duo stopped by her hiding spots, guns in hand. Her move made her win a few precious seconds before one of them finally looked her way and laughed.

“There she is.” He sneered in Italian. “Come, come, little _Bella_. We won’t hurt you.”

“ _Much_.”  Added the second one with glee.

Both laughed as she frowned. No thanks. 

“I’ll pass.” She snapped back in a passable Italian as they got closer. “I got places to be.”

“A pity.” 

She shot out of her spot, using one of the can to push herself higher. Her knee hit one straight in the face and he fell with her. A simple jump was enough to get her back on her feet and to turn toward the second one. She ducked under the bullet aimed toward her head and slapped the weapon out of his hand before twisting his wrist and sending him to the ground with a well-placed judo stance. It was just enough so that she could run to a different location, trying to ignore the bullets that hit too close to her head or feet.

Adrenaline was pumping hot in her veins, making her run quicker and think less.

 

As soon as her back hit the alley’s wall, she had to use up all of her self control not to yell in pain. A glance sufficed to spot the red slowly seeping out of the hole in her shoulder. No bones or artery had been hit, luckily, and her arm and fingers could still move. She regretted not bringing her bulletproof hoodie to Angelo’s. Now it just hurt.

The gunshots stopped and she raised her gun toward the entrance of her hiding place. Better safe than sorry. John’s voice called her name. His voice had an edge to it that she hadn’t heard many times before. Maybe never.

“I’m here John.”

She kept the gun up when she heard the footsteps and only lowered it as it became obvious John was the only one searching. He said her name one last time before getting down to her level.

“Are you okay?”

She spared a glance to her shoulder. “I saw worse.” 

His eyes went to her wound and she simply looked at his frown. There was a new bruise at the root of his hair and one on the lower side of his jaw. One of his hand had the knuckles bloodied as if he had punched a wall. Maybe he had done just that, it wouldn’t be surprising.

“We need to get out. Now."

“Yep.”

She took his extended hand and let him pull her to her feet, clenching her teeth when her shirt pulled her fresh wound. John placed a hand on her lower back as he navigated the village streets to get to a safe space. She needed to wrap her arm quickly before she could start to get weak from blood loss. And from what she knew, it wouldn’t be in an awful long time. 

“John-”

“I know.”

Another turn in a side street and he was ripping the bottom of his shirt, turning to her and peeling her own from her shoulder. She didn’t have time to feel self-conscious before he forcibly raised her arm and started dressing the wound tightly. He didn’t leave her any time to cope as he pulled her away yet again. Her mind was starting to feel as if it was marinating in molasses. Everything felt slower.

 

“John… I think I lost too much blood.” 

His hand snaked around her waist to support her better as he fished his phone out and dialled a number. The second it was on his ear, the other side seemed to answer.

“We need an out. Now. Yes. The park. Quick.” 

The doctor was entirely lost to whom he had just called, but by that point, getting out was the main objective. She was useless like this and it was absolutely unfair. All that training for so long, and then one bullet and she was out. Reality felt shitty compared to the lucky ones in movies. 

It only felt like seconds had passed when a pickup truck screeched to a stop in front of them. John took her by the waist to bring her up to the back, someone taking her from his arms and laying her down. She heard more than felt the moment John jumped in too as well as the different cocking sound of something that seemed like a larger gun. The roar of the engine covered most of the rest.

“Okay, gently.” Said a voice, gently pulling hair out of her face. “Here we go.”

“You got the blood?” Asked John from wherever he was.

“Yes. No problem with that, I just need to see the wound first.” 

“I owe you one.” 

“You owe me many, but I know the gal. Can’t believe the doctor I heard so much about ended up hanging out with you.”

“I only did my job.”

“And killed Gianna.” 

There was a tense silence.

 

“It was a marker, Cassian.” 

“She was my friend, John.” 

She finally closed her eyes as something sharp touched her shoulder.

 

~***~

 

“Why the heck are you even hanging out with her?” Cassian asked, mild annoyance in his voice. “The last I saw her she was just a sweet girl that felt horrible about life. Gosh, did you give her these?” 

“Larry did.”

“And?”

“He’s dead.” 

“Long?”

“No.”

“John, we need to talk about your priorities.”

“I needed to get her out.”

Cassian passed a hand on his face in exasperation. “Of course you did.”

 

The woman was comfortably placed on a mattress and pillows, jolting at the rhythm of the car, the pocket of blood close by and linked to her arm. She looked peaceful if you ignored the blood on her clothes and the paleness of her face. John had taken his eyes off her for ten minutes at best and still she had gotten hurt. He knew that he couldn’t have simply stayed around for the whole battle. He was the main target after all, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth to know she had still chosen to stay with him after learning everything.

The other man looked over his shoulder and made a hand gesture to the driver that took a turn. It wasn’t as sharp as the first one they took that had made the woman moan in pain and John give the deadliest of glare.

“It’s actually really weird to see you like that John.” Cassian said, looking at the countryside. “I don’t like it. Not what it means to you, if you get killed over that, I won’t care, but for her. She’s a target because of you. A fucking huge one because of _you_. You know that, right?”

“So does she.”

“She’s been in the business for a little over half a year. You lived your whole life in except that retirement period. Don’t feed me that shit, she has no fucking idea to what staying with you actually means.” 

He knew. And he knew that Cassian could read it on his face, but there was always something else about her. No matter all the bullshit he brought, she brought something else instead. Something pure and good that seemed to suck everybody in. Tina, Ivan, now Cassian. People that hated his guts for various reasons and yet decided to do a truce for her sake.

“She’s the most loved person in the business so far. If I am a target, she is protected.” 

“You don’t believe that for a second.” 

“I have to.”

 

There was a beat. A moment where they looked at each other in a silent conversation that meant everything.

“Sure you do.”

 

On this, they fell back into silent. Less tense, but still uncomfortable.

 

The doctor was resting with her head on Cassian’s laps now, a position he had put her in after a bump almost threw her off the mattress. And for some reason, it was really annoying to look at. John wasn’t a dumbstruck teenager anymore, not that he really had the time to be one, but he knew jealousy. He had felt it a few times in the beginning of his relationship with Helen. Friends she seemed so close to she forgot about him. She had taken care of his worries quickly after they were pointed out. 

It felt odd to have that twisted feeling again. Of being in the wrong place, of deserving more, but the fact that it was with _her_ felt the worse. Sure, there had been a kiss, but there wasn’t time to speak of it, to comment on it, to acknowledge it.

It could have never happened and he wouldn’t have been surprised.

 

They would have to talk, but for now, they needed to get her back to New York.

 

 

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeere iiiiiii goooooooo
> 
> I leave for France tomorrow and yet I rushed through this chapter like all hell was behind me!  
> I won't be able to post it tomorrow so I do today (Ooooh so saaaad)
> 
> I'll do another chapter as soon as I can since my first week will be kind of really chill.
> 
> I'm feeling for a long-ass chapter. Whatcha think?


	16. The Shopping List

Saying it was a hot day in Italy was an understatement. It was horribly warm and the humidity was chocking any that attempted breathing. The streets were the ones of a ghost town, the stray animals hidden away under some rare shade, tourist hidden inside whichever hotel they had booked. Even the locals stayed away, Cassian was no exception.

He was no exception to the unspoken rule about expensive things amongst assassins. One of the wall was entirely composed of floor-to-cellings windows, the kitchen counters were of a dark marble. Even the plants esquisitely placed around each room felt pricy. And she couldn’t even start on the size of it all. Not only was it right under the Panthouse, a whole level and the door was the escalator itself, but it was also two floors high.

How did a bed-ridden doctor knew that? Well it was quite simple actually, she had only needed some water and no one seemed around. After calling out for help, she had simply gotten up, walked out and started gaping at the size of it all. Refusing to walk down the stairs had been a marvelous idea. The first level was so vast she almost got lost twice before finding the kitchen and finally getting her glass of water.

 

That’s how both men found her an hour later, looking outside from her spot on the couch, sipping a simple glass of water. John called out to her, making her twist to face them.

“Oh, hi. Sorry I was thirsty.”

“Make yourself at home.” Answered Cassian, placing his bag on the coffee table.

“That’s very nice of you.” 

“Did you go downstairs?” Asked John with some worry in his voice. Maybe no one could really tell, but passing so much time with him around made it more obvious.

“No. It’s way too big already.”

“Good. Don’t go there.” 

“What John means.” Clarified Cassian with a roll of his eyes. “Is that the lower level belongs to my roomate that is not really open to strangers roaming around in her things.”

“That’s fair.”

John just let out a non-comital groan.

 

“And what did you two did?” 

“Business.”

 “Why did I even ask?”

“We found you a way back to New York.” Explained Cassian.

“That’s good.” After a small look at the duo, she corrected. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes and no.” Continued the italian man. “There’s been a few calls of people ready to bring you safely and even watch over you until you can set foot in the Continental.” 

“And the bad new?” 

“At least half of them are known to be turncoats and we cannot risk it, and the only one we both agree on trusting has too little men to really be safe.”

“Oh.”

 

It felt odd. So far, she had ended up being quite liked by the entirety of the underground with only a few exceptions. A few violent exception. Well, not everyone could like her. 

“Who is the one that can be trusted?”

“Ivan. You know him well.”

“I do. What about Tina?”

“Tina needs to take care of things in Italy. Apparently her family didn’t enjoy her taking the side of John Wick.”

“That’s fair.” 

“Coffee?”

“Yeah… Coffee.”

“John?” 

A small hum of agreement and Cassian was leaving for the kitchen, leaving the duo alone. A few seconds later, the coffee machine was coming from the kitchen.

 

“So… Will I have to stay in Italy for long?” 

“No. You leave soon.” 

“Will you…” 

“I won’t immediately follow.”

“How much is it now?”

It only took him a second to find what she was refering to. “Eighty.”

“That’s insane.”

He only hummed again, sitting on the couch beside her. It felt refreshing to have him close by instead of across from her. He did not do any more than sitting. No arm was laid behind her, no leg was crossed, and yet he looked… at ease. Relaxed… Better.

 

~***~

 

“Cassian, for the last time, I do not need twelve pairs of shoes.”

“Heels, flats, running shoes, steeled-toed, booths, waterproof. This is the basics.”

“This is not only above my pay grade but above my use as well. I swear I don’t need four pairs of heels. I haven’t walked in that kind of shoes in… years. Easily.”

“So you’ll practice. Turn left.”

“I don’t want Louboutins, Cassian!” 

She walked faster to keep up with his long legs.

Granted, her flat had burnt down with all of her things, but the sheer number of shoes and vests were already more that she ever had or could ever afford. She had at least expected bags, but apparently, everything they brought was immediately packed and sent to New York in gorgeous suitcases. What didn’t quite fit was sent in different packages to be seen by her tailor… As if she had one. 

“Dresses.” He pointed out as he walked in another expensive-looking store. “You can choose one for comfort. You need two cocktails, one for evenings, two for days. I’ll get you choices.”

 

And on that, he left a very, very lost doctor in front of a mannequin that wore a very conservative dress with a price in the five zeroes. With little to do but to comply, she started to walk around the store, checking the price of the rare dresses that caught her eye. After the fifth, a woman came to her with a closed expression that turned into a classic customer smile. 

“Greetings m’am. Anything you fancy?” The way her eyes took in her comfortable jeans and T-shirt was not lost to the doctor.

“I’m looking around. I’m not used to these kind of prices you see.”

“I gathered that much, m’am. Might I suggest you go in the store right across instead? Their prices might still be on the high for you, but you might be able to afford them.” 

Well, she had worked in the service industry for years and the tone might have been a little more than unpleasant, she knew that the wealthiest costumers were also the worst. The lady in front of her had probably already seen hell.

“That is very kind of you, but my friend seems set on this store.”

 

The woman turned to check the direction she was pointing and she felt her stiffen before she turned. “I am so, so sorry milady. I did not know you were with mister Cassian, I-”

“Hey, hey it’s ok. No harm done, really.”

“I apologize; please if you do choose a dress it will be on the house!” 

“That is very kind of you, but I’d rather not. I worked with costumers for years, you had no reason to believe I was with him you know.”

“Yes, milady, sorry again.”

She scurried over as fast as her heels could and left the doctor alone. Poor little woman. The rich really were the worse of them all.

 

It took the woman a few more minutes to find one dress she liked and that came into her size. It was a short walk toward the changing rooms and the same lady immediately showed her to her own changing space. It was way too vast to be simply called a room. Three full-body mirrors, a sink for some reason, carpets on the floor, a coat hanger. Even the air seemed cleaner and subtly perfumed here. She quickly changed, the vastness of the room making her uneasy.

The dress was wonderful. Not a perfect fit, but prettily highlighting her silhouette without being too form-fitting. She twirled and noticed a shadow by the curtains.

“Um… Yes?” 

“I got your dresses.”

“Oh! Thanks Cassian!”

“Did you find something?”

She looked down at herself. Pleased. “Yep. Hey, come in.”

He did without any hesitation. She didn’t doubt for a second the possibility of Gianna asking him if her lingerie was good enough and him pointing that the laces were uneven. The mental image almost made her chuckle.

“It will need a tailor.” 

“Yes, yes, but it’s cute!” 

“Good. Here are the other ones, do tell if they are uncomfortable.” And out he was.

 

Not that she had expected an incredible reaction, but maybe at least a comment. After some thoughts, she walked to her bag to fish out her cellphone, making her way toward the mirror to snap a few pictures of it in different angles and poses. Then she took it off and tested the next dresses, asking Cassian to come in for each one of them where he simply replaced the fabric, nodded or shook his head and then left, sometimes bringing a replacement. It was a new experience, but she didn’t mind being pampered after as much as she had thought. Maybe next time she’d ask him to go to a thrift store instead.

 

~***~

 

They were halfway through pants and skirts when she received a text from John.

[Where are you?]

[Still at the mall] She texted, making sure she was still close to Cassian. [Almost done] Then, after a small pause. [I can’t afford this] 

[I’ll pay.]

[John. No. I’ll find some way to start to work as soon as I get to New York to pay it as quickly as I can]

[I mean it.] 

[I know but it’s a no. You need it]

[I can’t use any of it. Take it.]

 

It was like talking to a wall, as expected. She changed tactics and searched her pictures. Here. The dress she had brought for a price she was pretty sure had been significantly lowered. She sent it with a smile.

[It will need tailoring.]

She lost her smile.

[It suits you.]

And woop here it was again.

Cassian pulled her toward him almost violently, making her narrowly avoid a pillar she had been casually walking toward. She apologized half-laughing while he just nodded.

[Thanks] 

[No problem.]

 

“Please do look where you’re walking.” Chipped in Cassian in a half-amused, half-annoyed voice.”

She pocketed her phone with an embarrassed smile. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“We don’t have much more to get.”

“I- Yeah, good” 

 

A shot rang in the distance and she was shoved behind the pillar she had recently been saved from before any screaming ever started.

“Can’t we have one single gun-free day?” She hissed before Cassian put his hand on her mouth, crouching and bringing her lower with him.

“Stay low.” He murmured before taking the safety off his gun and leaving her, sliding through the stampede of terrified customers and shop owners.

 

Soon, there was an exchange of fire, the civilians’ cry an echo in the distance. Both men, because the second voice was just so incredibly deep, started talking between shots. She couldn’t concentrate enough to understand the exchange with the blood pounding in her ears. Then there was a grunt. The sound of a weapon clattering on the ground. Wheels rolling and jewelry shaking. A slamming sound and a thud. Footsteps. 

Her texting app was still open. She preferred not to take any chances.

[There is a shooter at the mall] 

[On my way]

No punctuation. It felt good to know she wasn’t the only one slightly panicking.

 

The footsteps were not directly getting closer which felt odd. Cassian knew where she was. She dared glance behind the pillar and quickly snapped back to her hiding spot. Cassian. That had been Cassian. Face-first on the ground between a pillar and what looked like a jewelry stand. It had been too quick to tell the severity of his wound. All she needed to know was that he was knocked out and some shooter was searching around. She stopped breathing. He passed close by without slowing down. Safe.

“ _Ding_!” 

“Shit!”

She did not even have time to check who had texted her or what before a hand grabbed her by the collar and pulled her to her feet. Face-to-face with a bald man in a finely tailored suit, gun in his free hand and more at his belt. Whatever had been his plans, he had been ready.

“Well, hello there.” His accent was French. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I wasn’t moving.” At least her worldwide known tact was still present.

 

He didn’t laugh, preferring to throw her over his shoulder like a potato sack instead. She answered with an undignified yelp. A butterfly knife was strapped to her belt, if only she could grab it before he noticed she could-

Everything seemed to spin before her vision turned white for a second. He had dropped her.

“Come on, little miss. It will be way easier if you let it happen and do not fight.”

“You… ass.” She commented, trying to find balance as she pulled herself up, grabbing her knife and pointing it toward him after the second try. Her head felt like it was splitting it two and for a second she wondered if her fall had dented the mall’s floor. 

He slapped the weapon out of her hand and grabbed her wrist. Oh. He had freckles. A redhead maybe.

“Listen, miss, I got asked to bring you to someone. From what I’ve heard about you, I’d rather not, but it’s not something I can pull out of. You follow me willingly and I won’t have to break your wrist. Capiche?”

There wasn’t much she could do, especially with what was definitely a commotion. She glanced toward Cassian’s unconscious form, pissed at herself from the wave of nausea the movement caused her. She yelped again as he raised the pressure of his grip.

“Ow! Stop! I’ll follow! Jesus that hurts.”

 

He turned, hand still grabbing her wrist, and started walking toward a door. Her phone rang.

“Leave that.” He snapped. 

“Might be my mom.”

“Might not. Drop it.” 

“It’s a new screen.”

 

The backhand was a surprise.

The nausea that followed was less surprising.

 

“Stop fucking with me, stop that phone and drop. It.”

He yanked her back to her feet again after noticing she wasn’t going to do it herself. His hand snatched the phone and threw it point-blank toward the pillar. The ringing stopped. At the same time another shot rang.

“Police! Let go of the girl!”

This time, the arm the bald man grabbed was her wounded one. She cried.

“Drop her and put your hands in the air!”

“I don’t think so.” He answered in Italian, shooting the duo of policemen that had the back luck to be there. 

“Stop!” She cried again, trying to loosen the grip on her arm. “Stop they did nothing!” 

“They got in the way. Move.”

 

This shopping trip was going horribly wrong and she could see not a single way out. This man had no visible honor code, was fast and trained enough to knock out Cassian. Granted, her bodyguard hadn’t worn any bulletproof vest or more than his pistol, but he was a skilled fighter. She knew he could go toe-to-toe with John. 

The suffocating air from the outside made her gasp as the man pulled her toward a nearby car. She tripped on the sidewalk, crying out and grabbing her shoulder. From the moist feeling on her hand, her stitches had snapped. He threw her on the backseat, not even blinking when yet another pain exclamation was yanked out of her. The door was slammed and he got behind the wheel. It was too easy; John should be there. He always got there in time. Even if barely.

 

When the car drove away, John Wick was not even close.

They passed each other on the road.

 

Neither noticed.

 

~***~

 

The first thing John wanted to do was shoot someone. Then he rationalized and realized he wanted to violently murder someone in particular instead.

When he arrived at the mall, it was not hard to find the spot she had called him from. Various marks and holes in the walls and shop windows caused by bullets, signs of a stampede and fight. Cassian handcuffed to a railing while some medic tending to a wound on his neck. He walked to him. Calm and collected. On the outside.

 

“Cassian.” 

“John.”

“Where is she?” 

“I’m sorry sir.” Cut in the medic. “But this man had been requested for a police investigation and-”

“Julien has her. I think he is following a marker.”

“That doesn’t change anything.” 

“That’s what I told him.” 

“Sir, I must say-” Started the medic again, looking at the policemen around with worried eyes.

John simply turned on his heels and opened his phone. Dialing a well-remembered number.

 

A woman answered in Italian on the other line.

“I need to speak to Julius.”

There was a short pause. “Of course, Mister Wick.”

 

A few minutes later he was sitting on a comfortable chair on the Italian Continental ground, in a secluded room that he knew was to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed. Julius pacing the room in front of his eyes and mumbling nonsense. The older man stopped and took a deep breath before turning to his friend.

“So. You are really asking me to give you information about a marker?”

“Yes.” 

“Johnathan, I can’t go around giving out this kind of information and you know it. Even less to a man which my services as supposed to be closed to.”

“She’s an employee of the Continental.”

“Not mine, John. I have no jurisdiction.” 

“You can do _something_.”

 

The emotion in the assassin’s voice did shake the manager. It was a rare sight to see John Wick lose his calm. Unnerving even.

“Barely. It is a marker, Johnathan. Shall I remind you of the rules?”

“Do I look like I even follow these rules?”

Julius sighed and sad down across John. “I know for a fact you do not. I also know it’s a matter of time before the High Table decides to come for you themselves. So why the hell are you still around this girl?”

“I need to get her out.”

“Like you got yourself out?” The old man leaned back in his chair, observing the celling for a few seconds. “From what I’ve heard, she’s quite someone.”  
  
John nodded.

 

“Kept Cassian from slicing your throat and got friendly with Ivan Netrov himself. Not a small feat.” Seeing the absence of significant answer, he kept going. “So far, I think only two people in the business had problems with her. Larry N. Roman and Wagner Smith. Two powerful men from two powerful families. Two family that might still hold a grudge against you for killing their heir or bringing the Netrov family against them.” Another pause, another sigh. “What I’m trying to say, is that this friend of yours has a very low number of people ready to use her as bait as she is not only known for her kindness, but for her increasingly powerful friends.”

John’s eyes were dark, but not yet acknowledging the hints.

“Who’s Wagner’s Smith greatest ally, Johnathan?” 

This time, he understood and stood up. “Thank you Julius. Sorry for keeping you.” 

“Not a problem Johnathan. Get the hell out of my propriety.”

 

And so he did.

 

 

There was only one Smith & Harris in town.

 

 

And so he went.

 

And so he killed.

 

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IiIiiiiiiiish guess who's back!
> 
> Well, I had -1 time in France which wasn't the most relaxing, but I enjoyed seeing my sister and brother and gosh did I cry at how happy she looked when she danced with her newly-wedded husband.
> 
> I wrote a little tiny bit while I was dying over the 42* there easy to see which part. The point is that I came back, fully ready to write the next chapter and... Blank.... So Blank. FOR WEEKS GUYS, FOR TWO WHOLE WEEKS, NIET, NADA, RIEN, NOTHING. it was wild.
> 
> Anyway, here's another kidnapping, maybe it's to win over the reader that got disappointed over the first one... And I feel like the doctor is passing into dangerously-too-liked territory and I'm trying to fix it but it's SO HARD
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this, I'll do my best to get out of this blank holes and find some things to finally bring to the goddamn final chapter I wrote months and months ago!


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